


Warmth

by Tomatosoupful



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: FIx It, First Star Wars fic, Gen, Good Ending Eventually, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Oh god. Have mercy, Time Travel, Time Travel AU, baby!Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomatosoupful/pseuds/Tomatosoupful
Summary: Time Travel AU. Anakin has woken up in the past. Time to say hello to past friends, right? Only problem, Anakin is a walking talking human disaster and makes a lot of stupid decisions. Stealing a Jedi baby from the temple certainly isn't the smartest thing he's done.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've written fanfiction before but never for Star Wars so I apologise if things suuuuck. 
> 
> What am I doing writing this?? I'm trying to plan and write my own science-fiction series. I can't spend time on this.
> 
> Not even sure if I'll continue. I have a story in mind but I just don't know. 
> 
> Sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes.

Anakin cradled the cup of caf in his hands. It was too hot and probably burnt. Dex’s Diner certainly wasn’t up to the standard of quality Anakin was used to. Then again, Dex had yet to actually buy and run the place. The former Jedi (and he figured, a former Sith too) frowned again at the date on the Holojournal in front of him. He wasn’t even born yet. Anakin wanted to say he couldn’t believe it but that episode had already passed upon waking up after he was supposed to have died.

He could still remember how cold he had felt. As he had watched his son struggle to carry him, an ice cold feeling crawled through what was left of his body. It had been a long time since he had last felt that way. Ever since Mustafar everything had burnt and remained burning. The return of coldness had been a welcomed relief until he realised it was too cool. From one extreme to the other.

And then he had woken up.

Back on Coruscant. Not too far from the Jedi Temple. Caught between immense relief and utter confusion, Anakin stumbled away and eventually found what was to become Dex’s Diner. After some investigating, he could only accept what was in front of him…

…and he supposed he’s gone through worse.

A part of him was relieved he wasn’t dead, unwilling to face Padmé, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and everyone else in the Force. On the other (now flesh) hand, thinking back to every action committed under the name Darth Vader, he deserved a good smack in the face and much more than that. He’d probably feel it now that the infernal mask was gone. That mechanic body had burnt so intensely, as though trapping the flames of Mustafar inside and keeping him in constant agony.

Anakin took a sip of the caf and immediately spat it back out. Too cold and the taste was vile. Say what you will about the fats and sugars loaded in Dex’s food but at least they didn’t disappoint. Filled with grim resolution about his current condition, Anakin left the café and began he walk back towards the Jedi Temple.

His shields were impeccable after been trained by the Jedi and the Sith. There were plenty of Jedi (alive, they were actually alive) roaming around the galaxy. No one should be bothered with his presence. Wrapping his cloak tighter around his body, Anakin considered that even if someone like Master Yoda was able to deduce something was wrong it didn’t really matter. The temple archives must have something on time travel.

~o0o~

Master Jocasta Nu had apparently always been cranky. And Anakin always hated the slight scowl she would send his way whenever he searched through the library. He remembered complaining about it to Obi-Wan who argued that no, Master Nu wasn’t in a state of constant grumpiness, yes, Obi-Wan had been a favourite, how did you guess Padawan? And, it’s probably your fault. Too loud I expect. Anakin could almost hear his former master giving him that lecture. It wasn’t his fault the archives was always boring and always too cold.

He turned away from Master Nu and ignored her staring. So what if he was being loud? He could hear two knights up ahead having a discussion. She hadn’t looked so pleased with her authority once Anakin had turned his lightsabre on –

-No. Anakin forced his mind back to his task.

After some time Anakin was fuming. Nothing was ever easy. For once, Anakin would like something to come easily. He was also rubbing at his right elbow. He had just accidentally knocked it in his frustration and forgotten there was flesh rather than machine. Just as Anakin was about to storm out he overheard Master Nu’s voice and immediately brightened at the chance to catch her making noise in the library.

However when Anakin found her he nearly gasped aloud at the familiar figure beside her. Dooku. A Dooku that looked very alive and different from the one Anakin was used to. He looked at ease and relaxed. Granted, there was a glimpse of concern in his eyes but overall his body wasn’t tense with anger and stress. Anakin still recalled with fine detail how perfectly shocked Dooku was when his hands were sliced off and how deliciously satisfying it was to finally kill him. This Dooku had yet to do anything offensive other than being a complete snob so he was off the hook for now.  

Keeping himself hidden Anakin listened.

“Master Yoda is wise in the will of the Force,” Jocasta Nu muttered, a little unconvinced herself. “He wouldn’t make a decision such as this lightly.”

Dooku’s shoulders sagged, “He’s too young. The family may have consented but I could feel their sadness. They haven’t had their child for a year and we’ve taken him.”

Anakin thought back to past discussions with his master on the acceptance of new younglings into the temple. Unless in emergencies such as abuse or death, children brought to the temple were usually over a year old, nearing two. This was to allowed the baby time to bond with their family before making a new one, establishing early lessons only mothers and fathers could teach before learning lessons only Jedi could teach. At the time Anakin had silently thought children should be allowed to go back and forth between the temple and their family, continuing lessons from both parties. Obi-Wan and other Jedi had never managed to teach the lessons his wonderful mother had.

“So the family…?” Nu said. “They were –?”

“-his family was small and humble. No sign of abuse or neglect. Master Yoda informed me that he was made aware of the youngling’s presence in the Force as soon as he was born.”

Nu’s frown deepened but she said firmly, “The Force has willed this child be a Jedi.”

Dooku was silent and Nu watched him with concern. Anakin wanted to roll his eyes at the Jedi’s hypocrisy in their approach to the Force. Sometimes they followed, other times they didn’t and bent to the whims of greedy senators. Regardless of their choice they seemed to hurt someone anyway. Now some poor kid is probably going to be damaged because of Yoda’s decision.

“Who is the child?” Nu asked curiously.

Anakin’s shields tightened, ensuring he wasn’t discovered. It wouldn’t surprise him if it was someone like the emotionless Windu or Luminara, who seemed only eager to assume her padawan was dead.

Dooku sighed before saying, “A boy. Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Anakin’s world froze.

~o0o~

Padawans were occasionally put to work in the crèche, teaching social skills and engaging with the weird quirks of toddlers. Those sessions were always memorable. Someone always returned with pee on their pants and everyone smelt of baby food by the end of the day. The first time Anakin was assigned, a baby had thrown up on his robes. Eleven-year-old Anakin had nearly joined him. Upon returning what had become home, Obi-Wan had kindly washed the robe as Anakin showered.

Obi-Wan.

Anakin had waited until night to invade the crèche quarters. With his skills in mechanics and the Force, handling security and getting inside undetected had been an easier task than breathing had been when he was Vader and stuck in that burning suit. He felt the bright and naïve Force signatures of the younglings inhabiting their shared rooms. Each clan had ten initiates and they all shared a room together. Babies and toddlers though were kept in small separate rooms to prevent the spread of diseases amongst vulnerable immune systems.

And every door had a name tag.

Anakin found the door he was looking for. He felt Obi-Wan’s Force signature in the room. It was him but also wasn’t. A bright and blank canvas was resting in that room. Anakin shivered. He felt too cold again. And the crèche masters wondered why their younglings caught the cold so often, Anakin thought dryly before opening the door and stepping inside.

Before, Obi-Wan had vanished. He gave one last infuriating smile before disappearing. The only thing left was his cloak and lightsabre. If Anakin was being honest with himself, travelling back in time had shocked him less than Obi-Wan’s death. The Emperor (his so-called Master, Sidious, Palpatine) had noticed Vader’s silent bewilderment and informed the Empire’s iron fist to shrug it off. Unimportant, Kenobi’s death was. As unimportant as Kenobi’s entire existence had been.

But when Anakin finally laid eyes on the youngling lying asleep in his crib, it felt like nothing in the galaxy mattered to the same degree as this small red-haired baby. Anakin reached out and touched the baby’s cheek.

It was warm.

Despite telling himself not to multiple times before arriving, Anakin collapsed to the ground in tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh.

Anakin had always suspected it but it was only when he stared at the exploding Death Star did he finally recognise that he was a contender for the biggest kriffing idiot in the galaxy. Perhaps he should have come to that realisation sooner. After all, how many people can say they’ve collided into a pole despite the aid of the Force on their side? Ahsoka had laughed so hard she momentarily choked and even Obi-Wan had struggled to keep his calm disposition. When he had visited his wife, Anakin had hoped Padmé would have kissed his sore forehead better but she only spat out her tea and giggled uncontrollably.  

To be fair on himself, Anakin had come across many other stupid people in the galaxy. Surely they were worse than him.

Anakin glanced down at the sleeping baby in his arms.

Never mind.

~o0o~

After many months away on a long mission, Qui-Gon Jinn had hoped for a nice cup of tea and an afternoon mediation surrounded by his potted plants. Naturally Mace Windu would dash those dreams faster than muttering the word ‘attachment.’ His padawan, Xanatos, had already escaped to their quarters, preparing the tea and accompanying biscuits, when Mace found and practically dragged his tall friend into a secure and quiet room.

“Before you complain, you are not the only one assigned to this mission,” Mace cut to the chase.

“Another mission? Xanatos and I -”

“ -I know,” Mace answered tiredly. “But this is important. This is…”

Something was definitely wrong. Mace looked exhausted and worried. Bags hung underneath his bloodshot eyes. It also didn’t help the Jedi hadn’t showered. Qui-Gon briefly considered telling him but then decided he would like to live to an old age. “Mace,” he began. “What could possibly have you so riled up?”

Mace took a deep breath before saying resolutely, “Someone broke into the temple.”

“…Oh.”

The two Jedi were silent as they contemplated the situation. Someone had broken into the temple. Someone actually snuck into the temple, a temple filled to the brim with Jedi. No ordinary person could possibly do this undetected. Qui-Gon folded his arms into his sleeves and said calmly, “What was stolen?”

“A youngling.”

“… _Oh._ ”

“We’ve assigned multiple Jedi to find the youngling. He was a new arrival,” Mace said with an air of formality, reminding himself to focus and maintain control over one’s self. “You and your padawan will be partnered with Tahl. I already have Plo and Adi and others searching –”

“-Mace, how was a _baby_ stolen from the temple?” Qui-Gon asked, completely baffled. This was not what he was expecting when he got home.

“The thief was force sensitive,” Mace answered, shaking his head. “He almost escaped completely unnoticed when Tahl spotted him leaving with the youngling. She attempted to engage him but he reportedly panicked. Tahl was thrown across the room and knocked unconscious.”

“Is she okay?”

“At the Medcentre. Getting checked up now. She’s keen to return the favour,” Mace said with a small smile. Qui-Gon joined him, imagining how aghast his oldest friend must be. Mace’s smile dropped and he continued the story grimly, “He stole a speeder and was chased but we lost him when…”

“…when what?”

“…he fell off.”

“He…fell off?”

“Yes. Again, he’s Force sensitive and Yoda can still feel the youngling’s signature in the Force so we can assume both are alive.”

“How did he fall?”

“I believe I said he was panicking.”

“And this was the man who infiltrated our temple? Mace, looks like you need to brush up on your speeder skills.”

“…Get out.”

~o0o~

Anakin bit his bottom lip as he limped through the streets. He sent harsh glares to anyone who looked at him funny and entertained any silly idea of robbing him. Hidden in his cloak, leaning against his chest, was tiny baby Obi-Wan. Yet to have awoken. How long did babies sleep anyway? Anakin knew so little about these things. If not for the feel of the baby’s heartbeat against his chest, Anakin probably would have thought he’d accidentally killed him.

That fall had hurt. Anakin hoped Obi-Wan was grateful for all the times he saved him. What was the number now? Did all those times no longer count because of his time travelling or because Anakin’s savings had only amounted to him delivering the final blow. Regardless, there was not a single bruise scarring this body and again, he was still lost in sleep. Only because Anakin had used the Force to protect himself and the baby (mostly the baby) upon impacting the ground. A shot of searing hot pain snaked up his spine and pooled into his head. Blinking wearily, Anakin searched for a hotel or something to rest in. He considered a dirty alleyway.  

The dark and dismal streets of Coruscant’s underground was a perfect place to hide but that still didn’t save it from being one of the most miserable places in the galaxy. At last, Anakin found a hotel and paid for a night there thanks to the credits stolen from the pockets of an unsuspecting alien. The alien had been totally unaware of his emptying pockets with the Force collecting the credits and sending them back into Anakin’s free hand. In the hotel, the receptionist had informed him that the rooms were shared and held four people so don’t expect a lot of privacy. And don’t expect the heat generator to work so well.

For now though, Anakin and his package were the only ones in the room.

It was just him and Obi-Wan.

Anakin sat down (with a wince, ow his ribs hurt) and stared at the youngling. Not even a year old. Pink cheeks, freckles coating his face, long lashes, a tuft of thick orange hair. So small and innocent and so warm.

…what was he going to do with this baby?!

Just as that unfriendly thought crashed into his mind, the baby’s face scrunched up and stormy grey eyes opened. Anakin supposed his master had looked at him that way before. Like that time when the flu had managed to claw its way into the master and hit him so hard even the famed hater of the Medcentre couldn’t dismiss their help. Dossed up on heavy medication, Obi-Wan had blankly stared at his puzzled teenage padawan. Until Anakin accidentally dropped a spoon of hot soup on his master’s lap.

Anakin snapped out of his memory when the baby began wiggling in his arms. Obi-Wan grumbled and wasn’t very happy looking. It reminded Anakin of C3PO’s constant state of anxiety. Anakin managed a huff that somewhat resembled a laugh before the baby erupted and cried.

~o0o~

Tahl Uvain rubbed at her temples. The Jedi always had such wonderful timing. Master Yoda and Mace had greeted her once she awoke. She had rolled her eyes at Mace’s immediate interrogation and noticed Yoda sending a sneaky smirk her way. Tahl remained lying down and answered Mace’s questions to the best of her recovering ability. A poor youngling was gone after all.

Not long after, Qui-Gon and Xanatos were at her bedside. Xanatos was fiddling with his robe and peering at the ground. That boy was always uncomfortable around her. “Master,” Xanatos spoke up, interrupting Qui-Gon. “Don’t you think we should get going? We have an important mission.”

Casting his padawan a smile at his ambitious antics, Qui-Gon answered patiently, “Tahl is healing and we shouldn’t push her unnecessarily. That’ll only slow us down.”

The 16-year-old sighed heavily, clearly displeased but remained otherwise silent. Taking the boy’s point into consideration Tahl said, “I’m only slowing you down anyway. You two should leave and begin your search. Let me heal and I’ll join you eventually.”

She spotted Xanatos grin with triumph. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at her, “Keen to get rid me so easily?”

“You know me too well,” Tahl replied light-heartedly. “The smell of this place is bothersome but you’ve brought me some cinnamon tea and another batch of medicine is on its way. Give me a few hours and I’ll be fine.”

She laid her hand on Qui-Gon’s and said determinedly, “That youngling’s future is in our hands. We can’t afford to wait.”

Xanatos had already gotten off his chair and was waiting eagerly by the door. Qui-Gon nodded and the two were off.

~o0o~

When a grubby and kindly-looking middle-age woman entered the hotel room, she was pulled by her arm and shoved in front of a crying baby by a panicky young man.

“What do I do? Is he dead? Is he dying?” Anakin babbled, pulling out his hair. After many years without his curly locks, one would think he would take care of them better. “I don’t have anything to feed him. Do babies even eat real food? Cause I don’t have milk on me in any way, shape or form. Obliviously. But -”

The poor woman, who should be properly be introduced since Anakin wasn’t in the right state of mind to ask, Mirilda, clasped her hands together, had a good think and then got to work. This was a hotel and even its lacklustre cafeteria had the materials necessary to make blue milk for younglings.

She later offered the bottle to the young man who only stared at her, then the bottle and then the baby before a look of serious contemplation on one’s life choices made its way on his face. Mirilda held back a snarky comment and demanded the young man to hold the baby, like this, don’t drop him, and position the bottle like this. Good. Good. All done. Now burp him. Do it.

Anakin shakily placed the fed baby on the bed. He gathered enough of himself to give a grateful if tired smile to the woman. “Thanks for the help. Were your kids this stressful?”

“I’ve never had children,” Mirilda admitted. She raised an eyebrow at the young man’s confusion.

“I’m just…”

“Stupid.”

“Yes.”

“Well the first part of changing is acknowledgment. Congratulations, you’ve passed the hardest point.”

Mirilda got up and went to have her own breakfast at the cafeteria. Anakin laid himself down next to the baby. Obi-Wan was minding his own business, playing with his feet and rolling over to play with the bed’s sheets. Anakin couldn’t help himself. He pulled Obi-Wan to his torso and hugged him, desperate for the warmth of that small body to chase away the coldness of the room.

This was nice. He could do this.

Obi-Wan grumbled at his lack of movement and Anakin released him. What was he going to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor sci-fi series is sitting alone on my desk upset and miserable that it is been ignored. I am sorry.
> 
> Apologies for any spelling or grammar errors.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have a plan!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been supporting this fic. I NEVER expected even a quarter of the support I've recieved. I'll try to do the best I can with this. Just got to make sure I don't make nearly the same stupid mistakes Anakin makes. 
> 
> Apologies for spelling and grammar mistakes.

The Force had released a scream last night but it had been silent to all those sensitive to it.

Except for two individuals who had heard its cry.

It was as though the Force was containing a secret and willed for only a selected few to know.

Master Yoda’s ears twitched and his eyes widened as he listened. The Force provided to him what was currently necessary to know, promising more in the future.

While Sidious attempted to pry open the secret with the clawed hands of the Dark side. Hateful memories burning with lava and the piercing coldness that only death brought had slammed into the Sith. All memories were muddled behind confusion and an intense desperation to fix things. Sidious allowed a dangerous sharp grin to emerge as he inspected this new and incredibly strong Force presence. The Force was behaving especially private regardless of the Dark side’s influence which only increased Sidious’ curiosity.

Master Yoda himself was curious but allowed the Force to wash over him, wrapping around his body in a soothing manner. It whispered darkness in the future, overwhelming sadness, love failing when it should have won but offered an answer. Not a certain fix or a promise that could be kept but a request to trust in the Force and the individual it had brought to this time.

Time.

Sidious found amusement in the concept and at the rumours reaching his ears. Due to a wide network of acquaintances and allies reporting the news of Underground Coruscant, Sidious was ready to hear of anything occurring in the Jedi Temple that had leaked. He had already known the enemy of the Sith were weak and just waiting to be eliminated. However, to hear that the Temple had been infiltrated and supposedly something special had been stolen, had been intriguing.

Both Sidious and Yoda were certain the powerful individual and the theft were inextricably linked. Now the question was, why and what would it mean for the Light or Dark side of the Force?

 

~o0o~

Throughout his years as a padawan, Anakin was told many things over and over and _over_ again. It was mostly that kriffing code Anakin still swears is bantha poodu regardless of his dabbling in the Dark side (okay, maybe Anakin dived in head first). What stood out to him the most was the eternal nature of the Force. The Force was everywhere. What has happened, what is happening and what will happen exists in some way in the Force. This also meant the bonds established between the Jedi. When two Jedi were brought together, no matter the circumstance, this was what the Force had willed.

All 12-year-old Anakin took from that at the time was that the Force had purposely killed Qui-Gon in order to dump him with boring Obi-Wan. As the years passed this thought never truly left him. Even when he regarded Obi-Wan his brother and dearest friend, even when they relied on each other during war and conflict, a small part of Anakin always wished that the Force hadn’t taken Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon would have listened and saved his mother.

However, when Anakin had attentively picked up the baby that was his former master back in the crèche, he held the youngling close and never wanted to let go. The Jedi can fall into a Sarlacc pit for all Anakin cared. Obi-Wan deserved far more than what the Jedi could ever hope to give him. After being protected by his master for so long, Anakin believed the least he could do was protect the baby in return from the emotionless and numbing existence of the Jedi. He wasn’t exactly sure how to ensure this yet but Anakin was going to do whatever he could to succeed. Maybe then, things could be better. Their bond could grow and thrive properly.

The bond!

Anakin’s eyes flew open and he broke out of his nap. He could feel the bond! He looked to the ground where Obi-Wan was still lying flat on his stomach on a blanket. He was chewing on the corner of a pillow. Anakin let the baby continue his experimentation with the scratchy material and closed his eyes again, reaching out into the Force. It didn’t take long and that was what shocked him. Anakin would have thought after 19 years of abandonment and abuse the bond would be difficult to find. But no. It was here as though it never left. It felt old and tattered and ice cold with neglect but as soon as Anakin touched it the bond began to warm.

As it warmed, Anakin heard the little baby gurgle happily in response. A joyous emotion so innocent it could only come from a baby flew across the bond and greeted Anakin. Once again, Anakin found tears rolling down his face. No matter the bad situation he had landed himself in, he refused to regret taking Obi-Wan. Anakin swept the baby into his arms and hugged him tight.

~o0o~

The blanket was soft and smelt of a flower probably native to the youngling’s origin planet. It was a cool blue with a pink ribbon sewn in a corner. Xanatos scrunched his face at the object but his master gave him a look that demanded maturity. The teenage padawan reluctantly accepted the blanket and toyed with it, folding it into quarters and getting familiar with the owner’s Force signature that still lingered amongst the wool.

This was all the Jedi had of the stolen baby. Xanatos had only barely paid attention to the details. He thinks the name is Olé Kenoli or something like that. Didn’t really matter. This would be the chance for Xanatos to show off how far he has come as Qui-Gon’s padawan. Qui-Gon was fiercely confident and proud of his padawan but everyone else looked at the boy in a funny way. The first time Xanatos met Tahl he had attempted to take Qui-Gon’s biscuits as his master left for the bathroom. What did the man need them for anyway? And besides, Xanatos had finished all his biscuits and was still hungry. He’d barely touched the first treat when he felt and then saw Tahl’s stare. She wasn’t glaring or shaking her head. She just stared. He left Qui-Gon’s food alone and focused on his tea for the rest of the session. Since then, she continued to watch him, as though waiting for him to do something.

And Tahl was tolerable compared to other Jedi! Particularly Master Yoda. However, Xanatos was ready to nail this mission and give Qui-Gon a real reason to be proud. Then, when Qui-Gon talked about his padawan, his fellow Jedi wouldn’t look like they were suffering a stomach ache and were trying to hide it.

Along with his master, Xanatos bowed politely to Master Yoda when the old Jedi entered the room. Master Yoda’s knuckles gripped his cane and he said, “Strong, the thief is. Careful, you must be.”

Hearing this just made Xanatos even more excited to jump into the action. He withheld a large smile but his eagerness crossed through the bond and Qui-Gon fondly accepted the emotion.

“Feel the Force around the thief, you must,” Yoda continued with a frown. “Go.”

_And may the Force be with us._

~o0o~

At first Anakin had been disappointed with his one remaining metal hand. He liked having a flesh one again. However it appeared little Obi-Wan loved both hands and fiddled with the textures. He loved the hard smoothness of robotics, and the squishiness and roughness of skin and muscle. He would hold one hand up and then let it go, giggling when it dropped. It was odd and pointless to Anakin but it made Obi-Wan smile so he wasn’t going to stop him.  

Prickling the bond was the occasional longing for his mother and father, familiar faces and voices. Anakin suspected the only reason Obi-Wan hadn’t cried out for his parents was because of the bond providing a feeling of security and familiarity, even if the baby didn’t understand it yet.

While Obi-Wan was calm and content, Anakin’s mind was racing. He thought of Padmé and Ahsoka and the future of this world’s Anakin. All four of them needed to be kept away from the corrupt Republic and the insensitive Jedi. Then they could all live together. Differently but definitely happier. Once Padmé and Ahsoka were born, Anakin figured he could steal them away too. But they all had to live somewhere.

Somewhere safe and peaceful.  

When another spike of longing for parents seeped through the bond, Anakin carefully stroked the baby’s face and thought of a memory. After a particularly gruelling battle in the midst of the Clone Wars, the famed Negotiator, the Hero Without Fear and his genius padawan were on their way back and passing through a quiet untouched region of space, thanks to a certain bothersome robot general trying to bypass them. As members of the Republic, the planets allowed for war ships to pass through just this once due to their otherwise firm neutral stance. One of those planets was covered in fine fresh greenery, decorated with generous oceans and tall snow-covered mountains.

“Stewjon,” Obi-Wan had told him the name after noticing his former padawan’s interest. “A beautiful planet, isn’t it?”

It was. Close to the stunning beauty of Naboo. “Yeah. You’ve been there?”

Obi-Wan almost didn’t answer but eventually he said, “Yes and no. I was born there but I’ve heard the ski resorts are quite something.”

The conversation had ended before Anakin got to the chance to learn more. When he was telling his padawan about it later Ahsoka had been surprised Anakin hadn’t known his master’s origin planet. But both knew not to push Obi-Wan to talk about his past. Doing so was like trying to clean grime off a table using dry paper, probably impossible. In fact, Anakin reckoned it would only make the situation worse.

Later, as Darth Vader instructed war ships to begin invading Stewjon and its neighbouring planets, he angrily wondered why Obi-Wan had to have been so kriffing secretive.

Now, Anakin made eye contact with the baby’s blue coloured eyes and murmured, “Was it even a secret?”

~o0o~

Mirilda couldn’t wait to get as far away as possible from the odd duo. The baby himself was alright but the pathetic man was unbearable. Once again, the youngling had been shoved into her arms, smelling awful, and the man had refused and desperately pleaded for her to fix the situation. After the baby was changed, his cheeks rosy and orange hair spikey as though gravity was mocking him, Mirilda handed him back and left the hotel room permanently. She was too nice sometimes, honestly. Luckily for Mirilda, regardless of the timelines, she eventually establishes a farm and adopts 300 Loth-cats. She lives to a good age and is just about to pass away with content before she frowns, remembering that weird fellow on Coruscant, then shrugs and dies in peace.

In the meantime, Anakin couldn’t understand why she looked so annoyed on her way out. Dismissing her, he concentrated on the pillow case. It was large enough for Obi-Wan to stand in. He rips two small holes at the top corners where the baby would stick his head out of. Then, he unclips his belt and pulls it through the holes before connecting it together. He hoisted the makeshift bag over his shoulder. It was wonky and close to his neck but that would have to do for now.

It worked well enough. Once Anakin left the hotel behind for good he began a new search for a space station. Time to head to Stewjon and -ow. Anakin grunted when Obi-Wan’s small but surprisingly tough feet kicked his ribs, which were still faintly sore from the fall. The baby was producing strange noises, testing his vocal chords and mumbling sounds like “bah” as he squirmed in the pillow case. Anakin realised Obi-Wan was stuck in a half standing and half sitting position. “Sorry master,” the young man said quietly, shifting the baby around till he was sitting.

Obi-Wan’s orange hair tickled Anakin’s neck and the former Sith gulped down a laugh. He perked up when he felt Obi-Wan’s positive emotions beaming through the bond. It was an exciting world and there was so much to do. For now though, the baby really wanted to find something to chew on. He sucked on his hands instead. Anakin looked away from the sight, grossed out, and contemplated other children, his children specifically.

What were Luke and Leia like as babies? They must have been worse than Obi-Wan considering Obi-Wan is, well, Obi-Wan. Luke probably wouldn’t have been too bad. The occasional tantrum that was quickly forgiven when he gave a big beautiful smile. Leia… Vader couldn’t stand her but Anakin…a part of him felt sorry for Bail Organa. The poor politician would have been run to the ground raising that girl. However, an angrier part of Anakin burned with jealously. No matter what happened Anakin was going to ensure that this world’s Padmé and Anakin could marry and raise their children out in the open with the help of the godparents, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.

When Obi-Wan sneezed suddenly, projecting spit all over Anakin’s neck and chin, the young man froze and considered jumping off a ledge. A shiver ran up his spine. He contained his anger and disgust, and wiped away the filth. There was no way Anakin could tend to Obi-Wan’s needs the entire trip to Stewjon.

Up ahead Anakin spotted a droid workshop.

Inside the place smelt of oil and rust. Obi-Wan coughed at the new scents and Anakin apprehensively patted the baby’s back until the episode was over. Once the shopkeeper introduced herself, Anakin met all the droids built to babysit younglings of all ages. Anakin only had a number of credits left and grabbed the cheapest one. He didn’t need the so-called best droid. He was Anakin. He knew machines. Kriff, he was once a machine. If anyone could boost a droid it was him.

The cheapest droid was soon under Anakin’s ownership. It was humanoid shaped like C3PO but softer and rounder. It was white with light blue stripes coursing up its torso. <Greetings. I am B3-S2>

When the shopkeeper prepared to wipe the droid’s memory, Anakin rejected the offer with a scowl. Soon Anakin, Obi-Wan and a freshly bought droid were making their way through the streets. It didn’t take long for Obi-Wan to moan for milk again. Anakin immediately removed the baby from the pillow case and handed him to B3-S2. The container that was the droid’s chest clipped open and inside were all the necessities. “I trust you know what to do,” Anakin said with smug satisfaction. He sent that feeling to Obi-Wan through the bond and the baby smiled.

B3-S2 released fuzzy beeping noises that sounds like a sign and began the feeding process with a bottle of cooled milk. As it was doing so Anakin noticed its hands were holding Obi-Wan …firmly. The droid then tossed the empty bottle away. It nearly hit a stranger passing by. Anakin flinched at B3-S2’s behaviour, then gaped when the droid attempted to make the baby burp. The droid was practically hitting Obi-Wan’s back! Flashes of pain in the bond were felt first before Obi-Wan began crying.

Anakin swiped the baby off the droid. “What the kriff is wrong with you?!”

<I don’t know what you mean>

“Don’t try that,” Anakin snapped. He tried shushing the baby. People were noticing. “Aren’t you a Babysitting droid? Why were you being so rough?”

<I hate children>

Ah. That explained the droid’s price.

~o0o~

Although the Jedi had seen where the thief had fallen, there was uncertainty over what layer the thief had landed in. Corsucant was a massive planet with numerous layers so the idea of finding a single person in this mess was a daunting task. Qui-Gon and Xanatos were told that the other Jedi on this mission were assigned to an individual level each to search and report in anything that stank of Mon Calamari. The master and padawan pair were given their layer and were about to make their way down when Qui-Gon turned sharply left.

Xanatos took a moment to catch up, “Master, we’re supposed to go that way.”

“No,” Qui-Gon replied smoothly. “We’re going this way.”

After many years and countless missions Xanatos accepted his master’s wisdom and followed. They took an elevator down to the layer the Force was guiding the pair to. Xanatos instantly hated the grubby atmosphere and the dirty inhabitants that were somehow civilians. His dark hair fell around his face and that was just how he liked it. Didn’t want some lowlife looking at him.

Qui-Gon placed a warm hand on Xanatos’ shoulder. “Listen to the Force, padawan,” he said. “I’m sure we’re in the right place.”

Xanatos slowed his breathing down and focused. He felt the Force nudging him to go down an alleyway. He turned and hurried along with Qui-Gon close by. At the end of the alleyway they found a dumper. It had a giant dent in it. A dent the size of a man.

The master and padawan grimaced at the implication. “Ow,” they said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting started!
> 
> I was in Canberra yesterday for an early Christmas celebration with my dad's side of the family. I finally got to meet my cousin's 3 month son. He was soooo cute. On the way back, we collected our brand new kitten. She too is also soooo cute.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The theme of this chapter is: dropping stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beyond upset over the loss of Carrie Fisher. I admit that I cried heavily. She was such an incredible woman. I always loved Princesses growing up. I loved that they could be feminine and girls and still kick ass. Princess Leia was one of my favourites. As I grew, Carrie Fisher herself became the favourite. I was given her memoir for Christmas. I can't wait to read it. I'll miss you Carrie. We all will.

 

C3PO was _never_ this irritating. The droid had its moments (Padmé made sure to tell him with a playful smirk) however Anakin took full responsibility over C3PO’s behaviour. He made it after all. Whoever the sleemo was to design a droid who hated its primary function deserved to be eaten by a very hungry wampa. What a load of inconvenience! It didn’t help that Anakin was stinking hot and sweating as though he was back on Tatooine. Steam and hot engines choked up the surrounding air and had Anakin worried about Obi-Wan’s vulnerable lungs. The sooner they got to the nearest space station the better. The group made up of an unhappy droid, a bored baby munching his toes, and a former Sith who had hoped for a good nap after dying, had so far made their way a few levels up.

All the time it took to do so was filled with B3-S2’s moaning. It refused to carry the pillowcase containing the baby and barked an insult at Obi-Wan every time he peeked over Anakin’s shoulder. At first, Anakin had helped the baby reach over and enjoyed bothering the droid but now realised that baby’s love to repeat the same action multiple times regardless of how tedious it got for the adult. Ahsoka had never been like this.

<It is rare to find another creature in this galaxy as vile as younglings>

“Think I found one,” Anakin mumbled.

<I had a friend, a medical droid, who usually cared for the elderly. One day, it had to care for younglings due to a malfunction in the previous droid. Do you know what those flesh bags did?>

“I can only imagine.”

<My friend was attacked. Shoved to the ground. Drooled on endlessly>

“Sounds awful,” said Anakin, thinking back to the time all three of his limbs were sliced off.

<I am far better equipped to handle a situation like that. However, the trauma would never end>

“I’m sure.”

<You don’t sound particularly empathetic>

“Guess not.”

<How rude. What a disgraceful situation I am in. Oh! Remove that thing from my sight!>

Obi-Wan watched the droid with fascination. His arms and shoulder muscles were getting a work out trying to haul his own body up. Anakin hoped this would mean Obi-Wan’s next nap would be deep and long after tiring himself out. Then maybe he could lie down and have a good long sleep as well. Perhaps, if the baby woke first, B3-S2 would suck up and do its job properly.

As they turned a corner, Anakin eyed the droid. It was watching the ships above soar through the sky. It reminded Anakin of his own obsession with ships back when he only had a podracer to look forward to. The rumbling of the engines and the intricate mathematics applied to ensure they worked intrigued Anakin endlessly, more so than anything Force related. He only wished Obi-Wan had even remotely cared. The master just looked puzzled whenever Anakin tried talking about engineering. Then expected his padawan to be fascinated with the history behind teabags.

Anakin allowed a smirk as he glanced at the baby. This Obi-Wan was going to grow up around engines and he was going to like it!

<You aren’t even listening to me!> B3-S2 waved its arms in a fluid manner. They were built to twist and turn, while its legs were stiff but supported with wheels and small rockets at the ankles. Most likely to catch unruly toddlers. <If I am unwilling to work to your demands then you might as well dismiss me from your service>

The only thing Anakin was dismissing was that stupid suggestion, “No way. I bought you.”

<But I am of no use to you>

The droid stopped moving. Anakin resisted the urge to throw the droid across the street. “You’re plenty use to me. You can do all the stuff that I won’t. Like when a _certain_ baby gets really disgusting and smelly. Simple.”

<Not simple. I cannot bear the thought of even touching that thing>

Anakin held Obi-Wan closer, “He’s not that bad.”

<You just called him disgusting>

B3-S2 should count itself lucky. Very few Stormtroopers and Imperial authorities lasted this long against Vader’s wrath. To calm himself down Anakin thought back to C3PO and R2-D2. Whenever those droids were kicking up a fuss, most people just forced them to do their bidding. Anakin never did though. Padmé once told her husband that she adored seeing him treat droids with humanity and respect. When perfect and smart Padmé watched how Anakin spoke to droids and copied his actions, it felt strange and wonderful. Someone he looked up to was looking up to him.

“Okay, look, let’s make a deal.”

<A deal?>

“Yes,” said Anakin. “I’m _trying_ to get to Stewjon. I’m returning this little man to his family. I need help though. _And_ I can pay you.”

<With what? Credits?>

“No. What kind of droid do you actually want to be? I bet you want to fly ships right?”

B3-S2 glanced up at the passing ships again. “I can do that for you,” Anakin continued confidently. “I know machines. I can reprogram your system and make you whatever you want to be. All you have to do is help me take care of Obi-Wan until we get to Stewjon. If not, then I guess we’re stuck but I have somewhere to be so –”

Obi-Wan interrupted by blowing a raspberry at the droid. B3-S2 moved back and the baby seemed to enjoy its reaction. So did Anakin. “The negotiator has spoken,” said Anakin and he walked ahead. There was a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest when the droid joined him.

~o0o~

Xanatos balled his fists and hid them in the pockets of his cloak. In front of him was Qui-Gon talking with a group of Twi’lek. When they shook their heads Xanatos almost groaned long and loud. This mission was not turning out how he wanted. He grumbled under his breath when Qui-Gon mentioned how pleasant the Twi-leks had been and wished them well. The pair had been travelling down the street for a while now and very little had occurred. That is, until, they came across a hotel.

The inside smelt awful, like a drunk alien had spewed all over the floor. Xanatos noticed his master contain a grimace before greeting the receptionist. She was leaning on a desk reading a magazine and smoking. When she didn’t even look up as Qui-Gon spoke, Xanatos felt the urge to smack her for such disrespect. “Don’t remember,” she replied slowly. Boredom weighing down her voice. “Check it out yourself.”

Qui-Gon noticed a woman walk into another room. He followed her into a cafeteria. Once he introduced himself and explained the situation, she called herself Mirilda and they got talking.

Xanatos stayed behind and glared at the receptionist once the door separating him and his master was closed. His gaze must have been heavy enough for her to pick it up. “What?” she asked with a yawn.

The padawan shifted his cloak to reveal the lightsabre sitting by his hip. The receptionist didn’t even blink. Then Xanatos said coldly, “You really can’t remember a customer who would have shown up less than a day ago?”

Sick and tired of her free time being interrupted, the receptionist said roughly , “Look, a lot of people come through here. You can’t expect me to remember all of them. Doubt you would remember.”

“You should be more respectful to the Jedi. My master deserves your full attention.”

“Don’t look like much of a Jedi Master,” she retorted. “Looks like a Womp Rat in the sewers. You’re not much better yourself.”

At that the padawan activated his lightsabre. The last thing the lady expected was to have a glowing laser sword held by her face. Breath caught in her throat and her death-stick fallen, she sent silent pleas through her wide eyes. Instead of withdrawing, Xanatos held the lightsabre closer. The corner of his mouth lifted at her terrified expression. “Now, think long and hard,” he said condescendingly. “A stranger with a baby. Both human.”

Luckily for the poor girl, her mind responded well to the adrenaline and provided the answer. She had been cranky with the customer when he almost dropped the baby on the desk. She had tried to ignore him when he was leaving except she was continuously poked until she gave him an answer, an answer that the angry padawan was looking for. “He’s trying to get off planet,” her voice quivered and she told him the name of the nearest space station.

Satisfied, Xanatos switched off his lightsabre. He didn’t move as the receptionist fled and when his master returned, despite a queasy feeling bubbling in his stomach. His master was thinking deeply, likely about whatever that woman told him. Whatever it was it couldn’t be nearly as good as the information Xanatos had extracted. Just as Xanatos was about to speak Qui-Gon said, “Apparently the thief is heading to the nearest space station.”

Xanatos’ nails dug into his palm. “Right,” he answered stiffly. “Did that woman just tell you?”

“After complaining about the thief’s antics, yes she did,” Qui-Gon said. He folded his hands in the sleeves of his cloak and frowned. “She also mentioned his lack of knowledge in caring for younglings, though she expressed he seemed to genuinely care for the child.”

“So what does that mean Master?”

“I find myself unsure as to whether young Kenobi is in real danger or not.”

Wanting to get out of the grubby hotel the padawan changed the subject to the space station. Before they set off though, Qui-Gon commed the Jedi Temple and requested backup. Xanatos was determined that this thief wasn’t leaving Coruscant. While Qui-Gon figured that if the thief did manage to escape, himself and his padawan weren’t going to make it easy.

 

~o0o~

 

The Force felt anxious. As though a storm was brewing on the horizon and Anakin had only so few time to get away before the flash flooding came crashing by. He recalled the breathing exercises his master made him do to calm down. In and out. Let the Force flow through you as soothingly as the air fills your lungs. The exercise was interrupted when a certain baby bumped the top of head into Anakin’s chin.

<Younglings also have little regard for others>

“Yes, thank you,” Anakin moaned, clutching his bruising chin as little Obi-Wan laughed. The pillowcase carrying him was getting a real beating with the baby constantly kicking it. Oh well, if Obi-Wan broke it and fell the ground that wasn’t Anakin fault. (Anakin wouldn’t dare admit it but he’d probably panic again if this scenario happened)

The space station was just like most except with a few complimentary potted plants at every corner and colder than Anakin liked. Beings of all species were passing through, hardly caring if they bumped into a stranger. Anakin glared at a Rodian who didn’t even glance at him when it stepped on his foot. By the time Stewjon was in his sight, Anakin would most likely be purple with bruises.

In a building specifically designed for transportation it did not take long for a map of the galaxy to be discovered. As Anakin and B3-S2 searched the intricate map for the location of Stewjon, Obi-Wan attempted to copy their pointing and only shoved out his arms dramatically. A few passing parents cooed at the redhead baby and complimented Anakin on being such a good big brother. It definitely gave Anakin the confidence boost he needed.

B3-S2 jabbed at a particular point on the map, <I have found the planet you are looking for>

Stewjon was positioned right on the border between the Expansion Region and the Mid-Rim, slightly north of the Corellian Hyperspace Run. With limited information on the planet and the means to get there, the group of misfits questioned the station’s staff. As Anakin suspected Stewjon, while popular in their winter season because of their renowned ski slopes, was rarely visited during their warm periods. The population had a thing for their local plant that only the inhabitants found tasty. While the rest of the galaxy cringed at the vegetable, the Stewjon people farmed, picked and hosted festivals for it throughout their hot season. Back when he was a padawan, Anakin probably would have snorted at the silly tradition but as an adult and after his life as Vader, he realised that the vegetable was as valuable as water on Tatootine after periods of great poverty and starvation. He wondered if his Obi-Wan ever had the chance to try the native vegetable.

When Anakin asked for a ship to Stewjon he learnt that there was no direct flight. “Nothing is _ever_ easy for me,” the young man muttered.

It wasn’t Anakin’s favourite past time to ask for help but he handled the mild embarrassment enough to form a plan with the staff. Apparently Stewjon was so boring during its summer that very few ships left for it. The crew on these minuscule ships had the easy job of following the same route each and every time because only one planet sent ships to Stewjon at this time: Corellia. With tickets purchased (thank you mister rich snob’s open pocket), the group headed towards the ship that was to leave soon. Along the way Anakin turned to B3-S2, who had been silent through the exchange with the staff, and grumbled, “Well you were no help.”

<Until you have reprogrammed me as you promised I am of no use to you in transportation>

“You’re barely of any use now,” Anakin hissed before shoving Obi-Wan into B3-S2’s arms and demanded the droid do what needed to be done.

Later, when all three were seated, the first call to enter the ship was announced. Anakin didn’t even get the chance to get up before B3-S2 said it needed to collect extra supplied for the long journey. As it rolled away Anakin shook his head at the odd droid. Then he spotted a mother bouncing her own baby on her knee and tried to do the same with the Obi-Wan.

Anakin naturally dropped him.

~o0o~

 

Qui-Gon and Xanatos entered the space station with a sense of accomplishment. The building energy coursing through the padawan had him itching for confrontation. Qui-Gon laid a hand on his padawan’s shoulder and suggested that they split up. “Call me through the bond if you spot the thief,” instructed the master.

“I don’t know what the thief looks like,” Xanatos replied

“No but we both know Kenobi’s Force signature,” Qui-Gon corrected. “Don’t push yourself. Let the Force bring you to the youngling. If you find the thief _do not_ engage with him. Call and wait for me.”

Xanatos nodded.  The two separated with a heavy weight on their chests as though they were being chased by time itself. Being the Jedi Master that he was, Qui-Gon took the time to contemplate what the woman at the hotel had told him about the thief. There was no doubt young Kenobi needed to be brought home to the Temple however no one, not even Master Yoda, understood why the baby was stolen. Many feared the worst, as had Qui-Gon, but after hearing about the thief he wondered. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight of a droid smacking a vending machine. Low beeps sounding close to curse words emitted from the white and blue droid. It seemed to give up, punched the vending machine one last time, before picking up a bag of supplies and storing them into its torso. The supplies, Qui-Gon saw, were catered to babies. He followed the droid.

Xanatos’ patience was running dry after a rude Rodian stepped on his foot. After he yelled at the alien the teenager stomped away. A part of him wished for the backup to arrive soon and just get this mission over with but a louder and more stubborn part was desperate to handle the mission himself. And just like that, the Force listened and allowed. Xanatos felt the youngling’s Force signature and soon saw the baby in the flesh.  

The thief was exactly what Xanatos expected. Some pathetic lowlife. Invigorated by the reaction of the receptionist, Xanatos walked up to the thief and ignited his lightsabre. The thief froze as the green lightsabre was positioned near his neck.

When Anakin had told the Force it could punish him for dropping Obi-Wan, he hadn’t imagined this!

And who was this brat? Anakin’s surprise frizzled away and all that was left was tired bitterness. Of course some kriffing brat would be bothering him today. He sighed and sneered, “What?”

Now Xanatos hadn’t expected that reaction. He had been hoping for a bit of trembling actually, much like that receptionist. Now what? He wondered what his master would do in this situation. Xanatos swallowed thickly, rose the lightsabre to the thief’s cheek and tried again, “You’ve stolen Jedi property. Big -uh -mistake.”

Anakin thinks he might have felt more threatened by a humming insect once but that’s just him. Smirking at this jumble of nerves Anakin said, “Don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my younger brother. I’ve never even met a Jedi.”

“That’s not true,” Xanatos argued. He squirmed under the thief’s mocking gaze. Feeling the bond, the padawan thought about calling for help but stopped himself. “I know who this youngling is and you’ve got nowhere to run, so hand Kenobi over.”

“This is not the youngling you’re looking for,” Anakin claimed. “I can help search if you want. After you apologise for shoving that lightsabre in my face.”

“What? No, I…” the padawan struggled.  

Anakin shrugged and said teasingly, “Or…you could just walk away and leave. I wouldn’t mind that either. I do hate having my time wasted.”

Let it be known that Anakin wasn’t the only Force-sensitive being to react stupidly upon an emotional compromise. Surprising, I know. Anakin wouldn’t believe it himself under normal circumstances but a teenager decided to be stupid today and swipe at his cheek with the lightsabre. It burned and _burned_ and molten lava erupted and caught the end of his sliced legs. It hurt and it boiled like his anger. In a fit of rage, Anakin’s shot out a hand and shoved the padawan away from him with the Force.

One moment his weapon was firmly in Xanatos’ grasp. The next, he heard the clattering of his lightsabre as it hit the ground. Followed by the surrounding crowd gasp at the commotion and the youngling release a wail. Upon hearing Obi-Wan cry Anakin snapped out of his fury, realising with horror that his negative emotions had flooded across the bond and overwhelmed the baby. The cut freshly made on his cheek prickled with heat from the sabre and it took everything in Anakin to contain his emotions and prevent them from hurting Obi-Wan any more than he already had.

Xanatos’ head and chest were throbbing but the baby’s cry spurred him on. He held out his hand to call the lightsabre back. Spotting the padawan’s attempt to arm himself, Anakin’s stronger power in the Force snatched the lightsabre. The handle was too long but at least it was a weapon. He held the green lightsabre in front of him, daring the stupid brat. Taking up the challenge, Xanatos, clutching his ribs with one hand, picked up random objects with the Force and threw them at the thief. Anakin went back and forth between flicking the objects away with his own Force powers and slicing up the objects.

The last boarding announcement was overheard and Anakin panicked. His brain hiccupped and he cut through a bin. Rubbish was hurled into Anakin and a still crying Obi-Wan. Xanatos gulped down a snicker at the sight. Anakin felt a banana peel slide off his head. Sith-hell, there was leftover corn tangled in his hair. Obi-Wan’s sniffled and stared curiously at a piece of cheese hanging off Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin considered many choice words to call the brat but just couldn’t cough up a proper response other than silent disbelief.

<And this is my saviour>

Anakin and Xanatos turned to B3-S2. Its rubbery neck was shaking. A single eye twitched and Anakin rasped, “What took _you_ so long to -?”

A lightsabre activated and Qui-Gon Jinn made his appearance.

Anakin could only gape at the Jedi in front of him.

“Y-you! O-Oh kriff,” Anakin spluttered. The stolen lightsabre wavered. Instead of the gentle and warm smile Qui-Gon use to give him, the Jedi’s face was cold. That coldness struck at Anakin and made him shiver.

Qui-Gon’s eyes darted to the brat who had the grace to look sheepish. “Padawan, are you alright?”

“Yes master,” Xanatos mumbled, humiliated.

“Excuse me?!” Anakin exclaimed. “Padawan?? Since when –?”

The Jedi Master leapt towards Anakin, his lightsabre at the ready. Aware of the baby, Qui-Gon calculated the best means of handling the thief without hurting Kenobi -the thief was nearly as tall as him. Qui-Gon’s lightsabre swiped at Anakin’s knees. Predicting the thief would get out of the way and be distracted by the glowing weapon, Qui-Gon also sent a chair to crash into Anakin’s back. Anakin gritted his teeth and Force shoved the Jedi Master away. Then he picked up the pillowcase holding Obi-Wan and handed him over to B3-S2.

<Must I?>

“YES!”

Anakin just managed to block Qui-Gon’s attack. Now that the youngling was safe, the two could throw themselves into the battle. A nauseating dizziness prevented Xanatos from joining. He leaned against a pole and watched as the room emptied. Clearly people weren’t into Jedi fights when there was the possibility of getting caught in the crossfire. Xanatos then noted a droid holding the baby. Maybe he could get up and grab the baby. Xanatos didn’t get far. His head was in agony. He tried to use the Force to sooth his aching head. So this is how Tahl had felt.

Meanwhile, Anakin rolled away from Qui-Gon’s strike. Sweat rolled down his face, mixing against the wound on his cheek and making it sting. Qui-Gon mind was racing. The thief knew how the use a lightsabre beyond simple swordplay. The thief’s lightsabre techniques were not only taught to padawans back at the Temple by their master but also blended with his Force powers. Even though the lightsabre was foreign it had become part of the thief, an extension of himself. Qui-Gon avoided an attack at the Force’s warning and acknowledged the strange behaviour of the Force as well. It was writhing and thrashing around the thief. If the Force was a river, this individual was like a large rock pushing through and disrupting its flow. The Force bent around him like he had created a hole in it.

And he was strong. His Force signature burned fiercely. Qui-Gon had never felt the Force this strongly from anyone. Not even Master Yoda.

Deciding a different approach and appeasing his curiosity, Qui-Gon held up a peaceful hand and moved his lightsabre down. There was enough distance between them. Anakin immediately didn’t trust whatever this Qui-Gon had to say.

“Please, we don’t have to fight like this,” Qui-Gon began carefully. “We’re only looking out for the youngling –”

“-s _tay away_ from Obi-Wan!” Anakin yelled. Qui-Gon flinched at the tone of the thief and Anakin almost rolled his eyes. This Qui-Gon had no right to claim he cared for Obi-Wan, not when the Qui-Gon from his time barely cared either. Anakin still remembered being chosen before Obi-Wan before the council. He still remembered the silent miserable figure his master became whenever the anniversary of Qui-Gon’s death rolled round. He still remembered how Obi-Wan would never _ever_ talk about his master to anyone, not even Anakin no matter how much he asked.

<Sir>

“What!”

<Our ship has left>

Anakin baulked. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t –

<Sir!>

Anakin escaped his scrambled brain, waking up to see an entirely new picture. Qui-Gon and Xanatos were frozen in place, unable to move and slammed against a wall. Once again, Anakin’s panic had manipulated his Force powers and slapped away whoever was causing him grief. Anakin _needed_ to get off planet.

Switching off the lightsabre and hooking it to his belt, Anakin grabbed the B3-S2’s arm and dragged him into a run. The rockets and wheels on the droid’s feet boosted B3-S2 along and the group exited the space station. B3-S2 wisely chose to remain quiet as it watched Anakin search for something. With a sharp grin, Anakin bolted to a man standing by a yellow Airspeeder. Thriving on his rampant emotions, Anakin simply punched the guy when he didn’t let him steal the Airspeeder with ease. B3-S2, holding a squirming Obi-Wan, hopped in the speeder and Anakin sat himself at the controller. Just as he took off he spotted Qui-Gon and his so-called padawan emerge looking like they’ve seen better days.

<Sir, after gathering some research on my mission to acquire resources I saved to my database the ship’s route out of the city. May I suggest you go left?>

“Yes you may,” Anakin smirked and moved the speeder.

Xanatos felt like throwing up as he watched the thief get away. “No, no, no! What do we do, Master? He’s got my lightsabre. And the youngling!”

Qui-Gon was speechless. Never had he come across Force powers so strong it had completely immobilised him. “What we need is transportation. Come, padawan, we can…” Qui-Gon’s brightened when a new Airspeeder swerved in front of them and the woman driving the vehicle flashed a triumphant smile.

“Get in!” Tahl called. Xanatos and Qui-Gon did as they were told. The speeder gave chase.

The ship heading to Corellia had been found. Anakin sighed with relief and vowed to reward B3-S2 as soon as things had calmed down. He patted the droid on its shoulder in a brotherly manner and rustled Obi-Wan’s hair. It was a decent size travel ship. The Force sang with approval as they neared. However B3-S2’s head cocked to the side as though it was confused. Before Anakin could inquire they were cut off.

By a very rude driver controlling a speeder.

“Come on!” Anakin seethed at the Jedi hassling him. Some stupid woman had to drop in too. Too bad he was the best pilot he’d ever seen. “Hold on,” he told the droid.

Their speeder dived down. And the Jedi followed. Anakin motioned his vehicle through tight spots and narrow roads, challenging the enemy to see if they can do it. He wasn’t happy to see that Tahl was impressive behind the wheel. Her bottom lip was bleeding as she concentrated on copying or simplifying the stunts performed by the thief. The Force guided her actions and just prevented the speeder from colliding into a building. The speeder shot up the walls of a skyscraper with a chorus of angry beeps from passing vehicles behind them.

Qui-Gon kept quiet and warned his padawan through the bond when Xanatos tried to instruct Tahl on how to get closer to the thief. Finally, they saw the thief’s speeder had closed in on a transport ship.

Using the Force Anakin gathered his strength and pulled down the ship’s ramp. Wind whipped his hair in his mouth. Anakin spat it out and moved the speeder to the ramp. They were so close. The inside of the ship containing boxes was visible. He commanded the Force to swirl around himself and the droid, and then launched them off the speeder and into the ship.

B3-S2 hadn’t expected Anakins’ actions.

Obi-Wan was released from the droid’s hands.

Anakin’s heart leapt into his throat.

And Qui-Gon stood up and caught the baby in his arms. He landed heavily back into the seat, the youngling crying out in surprise. Tahl’s mouth had dropped in shock. Xanatos trembled, shaken by the baby’s near drop.

Anakin however didn’t take this moment to relax. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to fall to his death but he wasn’t safe in the hands of the Jedi again. Tahl pressed a few buttons and tried to drive the speeder away. Only, the wheel was stuck. She felt Qui-Gon and Xanatos wait in expectation as she tried again It moved. But not the way she wanted. It was being dragged towards the ship.

B3-S2 had rolled further into the ship and watched Anakin stand on the ramp. His mechanical hand held on the ship and the other reach out and pulled the speeder in with the Force.

“Tahl –”

“-I know Qui!”

Qui-Gon worry increased when he had to tighten his hold on the baby. The thief’s power was trying to pry Kenobi out of Qui-Gon’s arms. Tahl was cursing loudly and desperately thinking of ways to escape. The speeder was hovering above the ramp now. Xanatos had gone white unable to come up with any ideas himself. Qui-Gon called out to the Force, begging for its aid and wishing to stay by young Obi-Wan’s side.

The transport ship suddenly sped up.

Anakin and B3-S2 were flung back, the former Sith’s concentration breaking. The speeder bumped harshly against the ship and the remaining pull of Anakin’s Force power dragged all three of the Jedi and the baby into the ship with him. B3-S2 hastily got up and pressed an emergency button to close the ramp. The last thing the droid saw outside was the speeder spinning out of control. The ramp closed and the room was plunged into darkness.

All that could be heard was heavy wheezing and the roaring of the ship’s engine.

Anakin was the first to get up, frantic in his search for Obi-Wan and confirm he was on the ship and alright. He found him. The baby was on his stomach with tears streaming down his face. Anakin swooped up the baby and hugged him, sending warm comfort across their bond. They were safe now.

The Jedi in the ship groaned as they began to get up.

Anakin mentally prepared himself for whatever came next. He was on the ship to Corellia; the journey to Stewjon had begun. No matter what the Jedi did he wasn’t letting go of Obi-Wan.

 

 

~o0o~

_**To Carrie Fisher...** _

 

It had been a big tiring day. Anakin was exhausted. Padmé had taken Luke to bed a few minutes ago, the small four-month-old keen for sleep. Leia however… Anakin held his daughter close and took comfort in the warmth her body projected. It wasn’t just her body that radiated. Her Force signature shone as though it was a star that could light up a corner of the galaxy. Her spirit joyful and strong, powerful and fierce, promised Anakin that she would be significant to many.

For now though she was fussy and tired but unwilling to sleep. The sky had captured her attention and wasn’t letting go. Naboo was always a beautiful planet but it was during the night when Naboo was blessed with the presence of glittering stars. They reflected in his daughter’s eyes. Anakin couldn’t wait for the day when the twins were old enough to leave the planet and discover what the galaxy had in store for them The things they will do. The things Leia will do.

Anakin knew that many years later when Leia had done the impossible, made a name for herself and proved a hero to others, people would look back and just be astonished at the woman Leia was. The baby in his arms yawned widely and snuggled close. And in this future, the people she inspired would also realise that she is just as human as the rest of them.

Anakin couldn’t wait to see what his baby girl would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long. I had a lot of shifts at work for the Christmas peroid. I also had to babysit my best friend's new kitten as well. My fourteen year old ginger cat, Jupiter, almost died from a tick bite. He's feeling a lot better now, thank goodness.


	5. Chapter 5

_Calm down_ , Obi-Wan had told him many times, holding the padawan close and caressing spikey blond hair. _Breathe deeply and calm down. It’ll be alright._ The first time Anakin and Obi-Wan were captured during a mission, the boy was convinced slavers had come to snatch him away. The eleven-year-old had bashed his fists against the locked door, screaming and demanding to be let out. Until he was pulled into a hug and soothed with his master’s calming voice. _I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll be fine. I promise you. Calm down._

Anakin’s breathing was shaky as he watched the wretched Jedi rise to their feet. They were preoccupied with themselves. Qui-Gon checking his padawan for injuries and the female Jedi rolling a sore shoulder. Eventually though they would turn their attention to him and judge him the same way the Jedi Council always had.

As far as Anakin could tell, there were only two paths for the youngling he carried. Either the Jedi successfully kidnapped the baby or Anakin chased them off and proceeded onto Corellia. Although he vowed to protect Obi-Wan, building panic still crawled up his throat as he pictured his master growing up in the cold desolate environment of the Jedi and the terrible future happening all over again.

 _You need to calm down Anakin_ , Obi-Wan had said softly. Once, Anakin’s anxieties had crushed a speeder into a ball of bent and twisted metal. Anakin had been sitting in it at the time and nearly joined the vehicle in its destroyed state. Bystanders had shrieked and run away, horrified with the boy’s unusually strong power. But Obi-Wan had not only pulled his padawan out in time, he calmed the boy down enough to have him consider what his emotions were capable of.  Anakin wished he could say the lesson had stuck.

The Jedi were huddled together and whispering to themselves, side eyeing Anakin every few seconds. Anakin struggled to regulate his emotions. The last thing he needed was his way off planet to be ruined. But it was hard when the Jedi were _right there and doing who knows what and –_

 _–_ Anakin flinched when something touched his face.

The noises and smells of his surroundings came back into attention. Glancing down Anakin met the little baby staring at him with an odd expression. The warmth from the youngling’s hand seeped into Anakin’s skin and drove the coldness of fear away. His emotions eased and it didn’t feel like a lesson with Jedi Masters who promoted numbness but rather an acceptance of these emotions and an offer to put them aside. It felt like going to bed after a long tiring day. Anakin carefully held the baby’s hand and stroked it.

_Just stay calm Anakin._

Anakin faced the Jedi, making an effort to follow his master’s teachings properly this time.

~o0o~

Everything hurts. When Xanatos was flung into the aircraft the middle of his back hit the corner of a wooden container. His head was already stuffy and pulsing from the previous fight at the space station. So, really, his back and head hurt but the teenager translated this into _everything_ hurting. He groaned loudly, calling  out to his master for aid. It didn’t take long for Qui-Gon to be by his side, resting a hand on the padawan’s head and beginning the healing process. At the corner of his eye, Xanatos spotted the thief carrying the baby. He was about to speak  up when Qui-Gon gave him a look to remain silent. Something of an idea was brewing in the master’s mind.

Behind Qui-Gon, Xanatos saw Tahl tending to her shoulders. Whatever she was feeling now was probably nothing next to his injuries. Tahl’s face scrunched up when she overreached her shoulder and Xanatos reconsidered that _maybe_ she was feeling a little worse. But only a little.

“Are you alright padawan?” Qui-Gon asked quietly.

When Xanatos nodded he was delighted to find his head didn’t ache in response.

“Good,” Qui-Gon smiled. Then tugged at the padawan braid and said sternly, “We’ll be discussing your lack of obedience later, understood?”

Wonderful. Xanatos was saved from admitting his own mistake when Tahl beckoned the two to join her. As they did so they noticed the thief holding the baby tightly and thinking deeply. None of the Jedi came close to considering launching a surprise attack on the thief. Not after witnessing the incredible power over the Force he had.

Tahl brushed stray strands of hair from her golden eyes and started, “Well that was fun but we need to figure out what we plan to do next, _and_ contact the Council.” She kept her voice low and soft, not just to prevent the thief from overhearing but also to ensure there wasn’t another round of conflict. Her body had suffered enough thank you.

Qui-Gon folded his hands into his robes, “We might not necessarily _have_ to inform the Council. At least not immediately,” he quickly added upon Tahl’s stare.

To both their surprise Xanatos came to Tahl’s defence, “We should though. The Council can send reinforcements to the planet we’re heading to. We really need them.” Xanatos could hardly believe he admitted it but fighting against the thief no longer sounded appealing.

Qui-Gon shook his head imagining what an utter disaster it would be if the Council sent Jedi to their eventual location. He doubted the thief would react well. He glanced at the thief again and curiosity made its way into the picture. There were multiple questions but the most prominent thought of the thief’s origin, his midichlorian count, whether he followed the Light or Dark side of the Force or if he even followed the binary perspective of the Force at all. Qui-Gon then considered the youngling himself. Why the fascination and kidnapping of young Obi-Wan Kenobi? What made this particular being so important? As far as Qui-Gon could tell, the baby didn’t seem special.

“Let me speak to him,” Qui-Gon requested his friend and padawan. “There is something else going on and we should handle it…my way.”

Tahl smirked and Xanatos’ eyebrows furrowed. “Your way, master?”

“…Yes,” their reactions were somewhat confusing but Qui-Gon continued, “Diplomatically.”

A snort emitted from Tahl, “You mean adopt him?”

“That wasn’t what I meant but if we must,” Qui-Gon muttered with a slight shrug.

Tahl’s features softened. She thought over what her dearest friend was requesting. Her and Qui-Gon’s eyes fixated on each other and the whole world around them seemed to disappear. Recalling their days as knights, padawans and earlier as initiates, there were numerous times both had relied on each other on missions and everyday problems. They weren’t always met with success but the intent was never lost. Tahl had no clue how this mission would pan out however she knew all too well that when Qui-Gon was determined for negotiation he did so for a reason.

She sighed and nodded, “Alright. Let’s talk.”

Xanatos bit his bottom lip and scrunched up his robes in displeasure. Qui-Gon returned a wide smile and looked over his shoulder. The thief was waiting on them.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak.

Suddenly metal doors slammed open. And none of the Jedi would admit later that their courage abandoned them at that moment. The Hero With Plenty of Fear briefly thought of the Holo-dramas he secretly watched when Padmé wasn’t looking and figured this was when a female character would clutch her heart and gasp dramatically. He doubted the female Jedi near him would perform such a role.

“What in the _kriff_?!” shouted the individual at the slammed open door. Most likely a worker on the ship.

Anakin sent the most furious glare at the worker when his grizzly voice frightened Obi-Wan into another crying mess. The worker fleetingly looked a little sorry but quickly recovered and directed his anger at the other occupants. As Qui-Gon and the other Jedi attempted to explain the situation to a pissed off security guard threatening a holding cell, Anakin fought his own fruitless battle trying to calm the baby.

It didn’t help that he tripped over the legs of B3-S2 who had been quite content to remain lying hidden on the ground forever. <Oh. You found me>

~o0o~

“I must insist you let us contact the Jedi Council,” Qui-Gon repeated as he was shoved into a small pearl white room. “They can prove we really are Jedi and –”

“ _–_ I don’t want to hear it,” the security guard snapped. “I’m not risking anything until I have someone else’s opinion.”

Qui-Gon held up his palms in a peaceful gesture, “Ah. Very wise.”

“Very. Now shut it.” The security guard closed the door and the click of a lock was heard.

Qui-Gon contemplated the tea and biscuits he never got to have. Behind him were the rest of the misfits who had illegally jumped onto a spaceship and risked damaging its engine and killing everybody on board. At least according to the security guard. Refusing to ignite the situation into something worse, Tahl had gracefully offered her compliance with Qui-Gon following her example. Xanatos motioned his master’s lightsabre as proof of their Jedi status but the security guard fell on the sceptical side of humanity.

The thief had also complied but by no means submitted himself to the guard’s mercy. The young man radiated desperation and moved the babysitting droid between him and the Jedi. However he had whispered furiously to the droid when both failed to find their tickets for a second.

Anakin breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered them in the pillowcase holding Obi-Wan. The security guard chewed his tongue as he inspected the tickets. Qui-Gon’s stomach ached at the possibility of separation.  But then the security guard tossed them aside and said, “Wrong ship mate.”

Anakin’s blinked. “What?”

B3-S2 cocked its head.

“Wrong. Ship. We’re on route to Alderaan.”

Qui-Gon worried over the thief’s mental health when the man’s face went blank and he simply followed the guard without a sound. It felt like standing next to a ticking time bomb. Xanatos purposely marched at the front of the group and furthest away from the thief. It was then Qui-Gon decided he would make another attempt at freeing everyone, applying his skills at negotiation. As he tested the lock on the door of the holding cell, he figured the Force wanted the Jedi in this position rather than toy with the notion his diplomacy skills were in need of practise.

Meanwhile Tahl noted the small size of the cell and its designs to appear friendly and calming. A few couches were available and already taken by the thief and the stolen baby. Xanatos seated himself at the opposite end of the room, arms folded tightly and glaring at the man who had successfully humiliated him. Tahl held back an amused huff at the padawan. That boy’s ego needed a beating. Qui-Gon turned to her and smiled with a shrug, and Tahl chose to discuss his unruly padawan with him later. Right now, there were other important matters.

Tucking in some confidence, Tahl positioned herself closer to the thief and began flatly, “We need to have a little chat.”

Anakin couldn’t help but be reminded of the oncoming lectures Obi-Wan would prepare every time he disobeyed or failed an exam. Both his master and this female Jedi gave off the same air of established authority. They even wore that same disappointed expression and had their hands on their hips. Anakin fought the temptation to hunch his shoulders and simply shot back, “Nothing to talk about.”

Tahl shook her head and again reminded Anakin of Obi-Wan’s propensity to enjoy his padawan’s attempts at dodging the inevitable. “I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice. We have plenty of time to get close and comfortable. Shall I start? I can introduce myself if you wish.”

“I don’t…care,” Anakin answered through clenched teeth. Why, of all people, did this woman make him feel like that silly recently freed nine-year-old-boy from Tatooine?

Tahl gave an exaggerated shrug, “Too bad. Because my back still aches and I wasn’t allowed to sleep for hours because of the concussion you gave me so –” she pointed to Xanatos, whose face was bruised from the assault “–unless you want to make him look pretty in comparison, I suggest you get talking.”

Qui-Gon held back a smirk when his padawan looked downright insulted.

Anakin’s thoughts tumbled over each other. Functioning sentences struggled to form as words felt as though they were glued to his tongue. The baby in his arms grumbled and tried to grab at Anakin’s curly hair. It was then everyone noticed bits of corn were still lost in the maze of locks. To preserve any leftover dignity he potentially had, Anakin ignored the food. He made eye contact with the woman and spat out, “ _Fine_.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t say the conversation was heading in the direction he was hoping. Bitterness was being volleyed back and forth between Tahl and the thief as though they were reflecting blaster bolts with lightsabres. B3-S2 -its name painted on the side of its head and its shoulders -looked back and forth between the two like an audience watching a tennis match. Clearly the droid disliked the tense atmosphere as well. <I’m afraid I need to attend to the bathroom but please, don’t let me interrupt your discussion>

Everyone else frowned but Anakin rolled his eyes and muttered, “No. You can stay here.”

<I insist. Unless you prefer the unfortunate dampening of this seat and floor _–_ >

“ _–_ stop talking,” Anakin almost pleaded, containing his building anger by holding Obi-Wan closer.

<But I – >

“ _–_ My name is Tahl Uvain,” the female Jedi spoke loudly over the droid. She avoided looking at it. “And this is Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, Xanatos De’Crion. And you are?”

<This is very rude. I don’t appreciate being ignored>

“Do you have to know my name?” grumbled Anakin. He wasn’t sure if he preferred knowing the names or being left to imagine nicknames. Ahsoka could testify he was pretty good at it.

“No,” Qui-Gon Jinn moved to Tahl’s side. “However we –”

< _–_ This kind of behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated amongst _–_ >

Qui-Gon cleared his throat (while B3-S2 threw up its arms in frustration), “ _–_ we would like to call you by _a_ name at the very least.”

The young man still looked uncomfortable at the idea. He concentrated on the baby in his arms whose boredom was reaching its peak. Every adult could see a tantrum on the horizon. Knowing how little time they had left Qui-Gon prompted the young man again, threading Jedi compassion into his message, “A name is part of who you are as a person. I think I speak for all of us that we want to engage with you as a person, if you would allow us.”

Anakin’s heart hammered in his chest. He saw that Qui-Gon meant what he said. The man always had a care for every living thing, an understanding for individuality. The woman, Tahl, faintly nodded her head in agreement remaining stern in character but willing to show a softer side as well. Even that brat, this ‘ _Xanatos_ ’, had erased the glare from his face and was instead looking up at his master in admiration. The boy reminded Anakin of his own awe at his master’s kind yet powerful words and social capabilities.

However, Anakin didn’t belong in this time. The Force stirred at the back of his mind, halfway pushing towards the Jedi yet also preaching caution. Young Obi-Wan sniffled below Anakin’s vision, playing with his hair again and mumbling sounds. Anakin never had the poetic language and graceful talent of dancing around politicians and potential allies with diplomatic prowess like Obi-Wan did. But if the Negotiator could start off only producing small sounds that would one day become the words that stopped wars, encouraged healing and supported a young man out of his life as a farm boy and into a Jedi, than maybe Anakin could too.

_Just be calm, padawan._

“Luke,” answered Anakin. “You can call me Luke.”

~o0o~

The baby was making weird faces at him.

Xanatos tried to pay attention to something else but he kept coming back to the red-headed baby who had an endless fascination with the teenager. Once the adults had realised that young Kenobi was distracted from throwing a boredom fuelled tantrum by the mere sight of Xanatos, they kept the two youngest beings close. By close, this meant B3-S2 carrying Obi-Wan and standing by the door with Xanatos at the other corner of the room, both he and the droid disgusted with each other’s and the baby’s presence.

At the opposite end of the room, Qui-Gon, Tahl and ‘Luke’ were speaking in hushed voices. The Jedi masters knew that they were dealing with an anxious and easily panicked individual so introducing uninviting ideas to the discussion needed to be approached with ease and patience. It seemed to be working. Luke was still eyeing both with suspicion but was listening attentively, humming in approval or shaking his head sharply every once in a while. Xanatos wished the youngling wasn’t so obsessed with him, then he could take part in the adult conversation.

Little did he know that even Qui-Gon wasn’t confident in Xanatos’ ability to remain respectful and appropriate in front of Luke.

It was all decided that the centre piece of the entire debacle, Obi-Wan Kenobi himself, should be removed from the discussion as well but remain with the babysitting droid.

<There are no bathrooms connected to this room> B3-S2 remarked. <What stupid design>

Tired of the droid Xanatos huffed, “What do you care? Droids don’t _need_ bathrooms.”

B3-S2 rotated its fingers to produce a universally known rude gesture to the padawan.

Xanatos wasn’t particularly sure how to respond to that.

Obi-Wan held out his arms and reached for the teenager. Xanatos shifted again, increasingly uncomfortable. He then felt the Force around the baby grow cold as it dawned on the young thing that he wasn’t getting what he wanted. The adults felt the change in Obi-Wan too and got up to respond, with Luke especially tense. And then the door to the cell was opened abruptly.

B3-S2 was knocked away but luckily kept its grip on the baby this time. Every other human flinched at the sudden sound again. Qui-Gon took the initiative and said politely with an edge of irritation, “Would you kindly knock before entering please?”

“It’s my ship,” replied the newcomer. It was a woman shadowed by the previous security guard. She was a tall dark human, bulking with muscle and looking rough around the edges. Comfortably sitting between the age of 55 and 60, she must have dabbled in a few military interventions in the past before changing to a less stressful job. “Name’s Captain Iris Calrissian. I was told you have connections to the Jedi Council. Now would be a good time to bring them up.”

Soon enough Tahl contacted Master Yoda. None of the Jedi missed Luke’s scowl deepen at the appearance of the small green Force-user. Qui-Gon shuffled over to his padawan and informed him of what he, Tahl and Luke agreed upon.

“He’s lying,” Xanatos stated crossly. “It’s obvious he’s just waiting to make a run for it.”

“Whether that be the case or not, we have established a truce,” Qui-Gon replied. “Luke is allowing us to stay close and watch out for both him and Obi-Wan. He doesn’t have to.”

Xanatos snorted, “What do you mean? Of course he has to. He’s trapped on this ship like we are.”

Qui-Gon raised a single eyebrow, “Really? It appears you’ve forgotten Luke’s powerful connection to the Force.”

Xanatos sighed harshly, “No I haven’t. But it appears _you’ve_ forgotten how dedicated he is to keeping that baby. There’s no way we’d ever convince him to return Kenobi to us.”

“You’re underestimating his capacity to empathise with our situation.”

“Absolutely.”

The master sighed this time, but in a way that reflected his love for his padawan regardless of the ups and downs of the apprenticeship. Sometimes the student was stubborn and some lessons took longer to understand but eventually, the message would stick. “Then you need to re-evaluate your opinion of Luke. We have three days before we reach Alderaan. That’s plenty of time to get to know him. Luke is more than brute strength. There is deep passion and it just needs to be guided.”

The padawan struggled to hold back a groan.

“Consider this padawan,” Qui-Gon tried again, as patient as ever. “Remember your initiate days when you poured all your time and attention into lightsabre drills? The masters and your fellow initiates were concerned with your overwhelming passion, especially when you encountered difficult techniques. I’ve heard many tales of your famous tantrums and no master wanted to attempt tackling that. Now remember what happened when you were newly apprenticed to me. You still come across hardships in your sabre training but your passion, when guided properly, encouraged stronger discipline and determination to master those drills. Road blocks frustrate you but guided passion lights the way to a different path. Understand?”

Certain of the impact of today’s philosophical lesson, Qui-Gon moved along and allowed his padawan to think. Tahl and Captain Calrissian were finishing up their talk with Master Yoda, polite as ever. Luke had Obi-Wan lying on the couches, entertaining the baby with hand movements. Fingers clawed, Luke’s hand drew closer to the youngling until Obi-Wan couldn’t take the anticipation any longer and burst into laughter. Then the hands descended and tickled the baby. Yes there was passion in Luke. Qui-Gon could see the passion light up Luke’s eyes every time he interacted with Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

~o0o~

Three days until the ship left hyperspace and landed above Alderaan.

Three days Anakin gave the Jedi team to ‘convince’ him to return Obi-Wan. As if.

As far as Anakin was concerned, this trip to Alderaan was nothing but an interlude on the journey to Stewjon. Catch another ship to Corellia and _then_ onto Obi-Wan’s home planet. In the meantime, the former Sith would ignore the Jedi and prepare for the moment when he’d have to make another run for it. At least part of the deal was his keeping of the brat’s lightsabre. The boy had protested loudly (very _very_ loudly) but the Jedi wanted Anakin to feel some sense of security. Qui-Gon allowed his padawan to carry his lightsabre instead.

Anakin brushed Obi-Wan’s orange hair but the strands moved back into their messy state. His Obi-Wan would have had a stroke if he ever saw how untidy his hair used to be. Even at the thick of the Clone Wars, the Negotiator always looked prim and proper. Clean and fancy. Elegant and glowing. Often covered in dirt Anakin and Ahsoka had teased Obi-Wan endlessly for his efforts in his appearance. That is until a group of alien species slapped both across the cheek for disrespecting the culture of their people. To these aliens, cleanliness was the epitome of politeness. Anakin and Ahsoka had been forced to watch Obi-Wan smirk at them the whole diplomatic dinner, occasionally bringing up how red their cheeks looked and would you two like some ice for that?

Behind him Anakin could hear Qui-Gon and Tahl conversing again. While the ship’s captain gave her approval for the group to travel freely she unfortunately saw fit to cram all the stowaways into one room. Extra beds were provided but that was as far as hospitality went. The padawan brat had left a while ago, eager to escape the confining space and explore the ship. B3-S2 had followed Captain Calrissian with plans to sneak onto the main deck, though Anakin wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly hears the news of a droid abandoning ship and braving open space.

“I told the Council everything,” he heard Tahl say.

Anakin’s heart sped up and Qui-Gon answered, “What do you define as ‘everything’?”

“Whatever is necessary. We can’t just ignore them,” Tahl said with a brush of impatience. “The captain didn’t say where we were heading to Master Yoda and I also kept quiet about it. Other than that, they know what happened on Coruscant. Or at least Master Yoda knows.”

“Tahl –”

“–Master Yoda has agreed to let us try your plan. Why must you assume the worst from him? Is it too much to ask you to trust your grand master?”

“Maybe I would be more inclined if Master Yoda put a little trust in me in raising my padawan.”

Anakin knew he was listening on what Obi-Wan would have labelled a private conversation but he didn’t feel compelled to move. And clearly Qui-Gon wasn’t fussed with the extra company. To be fair, Anakin could only hear because he was curious. Tahl and Qui-Gon were quiet enough that most wouldn’t be bother to strain their ears to hear but Anakin had three days to ‘get to know’ Tahl and Qui-Gon, so might as well start now.

Tahl’s breath hitched before she said with frustration, “Master Yoda and the Council are concerned with Xanatos’ behaviour, especially lately. Surely you’ve noticed his tendency to disobey everyone including yourself, and his obsession with his home planet and family. Does none of this worry you?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Qui-Gon answered resolutely.

“My apologies but you are being foolish,” Tahl said. “May I remind you that it is not unusual for a master to discipline a padawan yet you seem content to let Xanatos exercise the free will and arrogance of a Mandalorian.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“You’re stereotyping Mandelorians.”

“…Qui-Gon. You _need_ to reign that boy in. I worry about you.”

“But where’s the worry for Xanatos himself?” Qui-Gon cut in. “All I hear is what Xanatos could do to us, what he could do to the Order, but where is the concern for _his_ wellbeing? How can I discipline Xanatos when I’m the only person he can go to without receiving a lecture? When all the Order does is continuously insist that Xanatos is a lost cause, then what is he supposed to think?”

The inside of Anakin’s body felt like it was prickling with flames. Picking up Obi-Wan he scrambled off the bed and out of the room before Tahl or Qui-Gon could comment. Anakin stormed down the ship’s hallways aware of his surroundings enough to avoid bumping into walls but also thinking deeply on all those memories of standing in front of the Council waiting to hear what else he had done wrong. What else had Anakin Skywalker screwed up? How else had Obi-Wan failed in training the supposed Chosen One? Name another way Ahsoka Tano’s training was inevitably ruined by Skywalker?

Anakin ceased his walking and leaned against the walls.

~o0o~

The ship’s menu was alright. Xanatos had experienced worse on other missions. At least there was meat and nothing smelt offensive. Food wasn’t for free or included in the tickets. So the teenage held a hand over his stomach as it growled. He was a Jedi and as a Jedi he learnt to handle temptation. His master would be proud.

Xanatos’ thoughts dissolved when he turned a corner too sharply and bumped straight into someone.

Both he and this someone stumbled back and fell to the floor. Adding insult to injury, this someone’s tray of food was released from their hands and spilled across the ground as well. Xanatos reflected on how badly his body was being treated this mission and sat up to apologise to the person.

The teenage girl stared glumly at her spoiled food. Her brown hair fell past her narrow shoulders clothed in grubby material. Wealth was far from this girl’s vocabulary obviously. Xanatos did what every good Jedi should do and helped the girl, telling her that he was sorry but sadly couldn’t help with replacing the food. He too did not have the current change to buy anything.

“But…” the girl pointed to the lightsabre by Xanatos’ hip. Not his lightsabre ( _thanks_ masters) but Qui-Gon’s. “You’re a Jedi. Maybe you can explain to the staff what happened and they’ll give me food. They’ll trust the word of a Jedi.”

That was the last thing Xanatos wanted to do but the girl was kind of pretty and Qui-Gon did expect good moral behaviour (and dammit, he wanted his kriffing lightsabre back) so to get on the Force’s good side he agreed, albeit unenthusiastically. The girl picked up on his attitude but elected to ignore it and follow her parents’ advice on attracting bees with honey rather than vinegar.

“Thank you mister Jedi,” she said kindly. “May I ask your name?”

“…Xanatos,” the boy answered. “And you?”

“Shmi Skywalker,” the teenage girl replied. “Now, follow me, the cafeteria is this way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry this took so long. SO MUCH in my life happened. Now I have a bit more free time. Plus this chapter was hard to write and I'm sure we all know what that feels like. 
> 
> The childhood and family of our dearsest Lando is a bit of a mystery so I decided to have some fun there.  
> And of course, the newest member to this story. Greetings Shmi. Did anyone expect her to make an appearence?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter talks a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe the wonderful response I got from the last chapter. I mean, wow guys! Thank you all so much! It certainly gives me motivation.
> 
> Apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

Shmi’s mother was a wonderful storyteller. As a child she would be coaxed to sleep by her mother’s voice as she told stories of heroes, close escapes and good vs. evil. Frequent adventurers that visited these tales were the great and wise Jedi.

The Jedi currently in her presence didn’t live up to any of the greatness or wisdom in her mother’s descriptions but in all fairness, the boy had said he was a Jedi _in training_. Shmi grimaced when the cafeteria chef looked more and more bothered with the padawan as he attempted to negotiate with her. Xanatos had a lot to learn.

Nevertheless, Shmi’s mother did say that the Jedi always had allies and helpers. Despite all their strength, Jedi still relied on others and they relied on the Jedi in return. Connecting with people across the stars was why they established themselves as protectors of the galaxy so firmly, after all. The only problem was, Shmi has no clue how to help Xanatos. She fiddled with her hair and looked everywhere else but.

Xanatos also had a great storyteller in the form of his master. Qui-Gon had journeyed on numerous mission throughout his days, and they were always told with great passion that revealed how much he truly enjoyed being a Jedi. Xanatos never really found his own missions all that fascinating but liked the idea of one day retelling some of them with the same vigor as his master to his own padawan.

He removed this mission off that list. Failing to negotiate with a chef wasn’t worthy of bragging rights. When his patience was particularly tested Xanatos briefly considered repeating the same tactic used against the receptionist on Coruscant. However Luke’s butt-ugly face mocked him at this idea, followed by the latest lesson Qui-Gon had given. With proper guidance, passion is a powerful motivator. Xanatos hated these kind of challenging lessons that made him feel stupid and as worthless as the Jedi Order saw him to be. Yet Qui-Gon still held such faith in him regardless, as did this girl, so Xanatos calmed down and decided another approach.

“Look, I – uh – um…have a proposition,” Xanatos sweated under the chef’s critical gaze. “I get it, you can’t just give food away for free. Budget stuff and…things, _but_ if you give my – uh –friend and her family food, I’ll work for you. I can pay it back with my service.”

Shmi started at the Jedi’s offer. Her mother had told her stories of the great sacrifices Jedi made but she didn’t imagine they’d demean themselves in this manner for something so trivial. She was, after all, not really anybody worthwhile. Shmi doubted she ever would be as meaningful as a Jedi. “Wait, you don’t have to –”

“–You and your family shouldn’t have to starve because of my mistake,” Xanatos interrupted. He was hunched and looked embarrassed with his behaviour, as though it was unnatural. He swallowed thickly and asked the chef, “Is that okay? I can wash the dishes if you want.”

The chef sliced a few vegetables on a chopping board as she thoughts about it. Due to an issue with one of refrigerators there wasn’t nearly enough food supplies to be especially generous. She and her staff had to allocate a certain amount of food to feed a transportation ship travelling for three days straight. Perhaps it was her soft heart that favoured romance novels and cheesy family holoshows that finally won over, but the chef agreed to the Jedi boy’s deal. She almost wanted to pat the kid on the back and assure him that he hadn’t done anything wrong or looked weak for taking a more diplomatic stance. Truthfully the chef thought he was going to threaten her every time a stormy look darkened his face. But the sun had shone through and dishes were soon to be as squeaky clean as a freshly rained on town.

~o0o~

Xanatos grabbed a plate and scrubbed it hard, all while frowning at the girl joining his side. “You don’t have to –”

“–Don’t be ridiculous,” Shmi dismissed. “I’m not going to leave you here. If I help we can get this done a lot faster.”

The chef, who normally worked at the other end of the kitchen, brought forward a collection of dirty pots and pans. “Faster but efficiently, am I correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” Shmi answered determinedly as the chef moved away. Her father’s motto was to never complete a job halfway but to give it your all. She noticed the plate in the padawan’s hand still had cheese stuck to its edges and gave him a pointed look. Xanatos put in more effort as he sighed quietly to himself.

Never the one to let silence settle Shmi kicked up a conversation, “So um, Xanatos, are you here on a mission or something?” Shmi recalled her mother reminding her daughter that sometimes silence was necessary in moments of discomfort, and chastised herself before the boy answered back.

“Yeah. My master and I had to – uh –save a baby,” said Xanatos, grimacing at a lipstick stain stuck to a caf glass. He wiped it off and added, “Oh, and another master joined us.”

“A baby?” Shmi repeated then smiled. “Sounds exactly like the stories mum tells me.”

Xanatos scoffed, “Really? Is that what Jedi are known for? Saving babies?”

Shmi frowned at the boy’s attitude but replied pleasantly, “Well I meant that Jedi save a lot of people and they’ll go to great lengths.”

The girl sounded a lot like other padawans back at the Temple. Gushing with pride and joy for their success in protecting innocents and ensuring the completion of a mission. For Xanatos, it wasn’t as though he didn’t care that people were alive and well, he just found more delight in the lightsabre battles and delivering the snappy one-liners he was working on. Xanatos moved a filled tray of soaked dishes and glasses along into an industrial dish washer and set the machine off. He turned back to Shmi and said assuredly, “The cooler stories are the ones with lightsabre battles. Those missions are always the best ones.” …except for this one.

“So, you’ve been on really dangerous missions?” Shmi’s eyes sparkled at the thought of the adventures this boy had been on. “I didn’t think apprentices were allowed.”

“Padawans go on missions like that all the times,” Xanatos corrected her. Then a train of thought pulled into a station and he went on, “But I mean, I am getting close to becoming a Jedi Knight so I’ll probably get more missions like that soon.” At least he was certain he was close to Knighthood.

Instead of the reaction he was hoping (blind hero-worshipping would have been nice), Shmi barely withheld a laugh and said, “Aren’t you too young to be a Knight?”

“I’m not young!”

Grinning cheekily, Shmi countered, “You sure? How old are you?”

Xanatos’ annoyance dimmed when he noticed Shmi’s good-natured attitude. She wasn’t mocking him, just having fun. Changing his tactic, Xanatos returned the grin and answered, “16. How old are you?”

“That _is_ young,” Shmi said triumphantly. “And I’m 15.”

“Oh, _I’m_ young?”

“Yes. You are.”

It was only when Xanatos was suddenly afraid that Shmi’s expecting look meant another chance for him to screw something up socially, did the boy retreat back to diligently cleaning the dishes. For Shmi, she hadn’t been expecting anything at all but recognised when an individual was too consciously aware of their interactions. Which was why she was surprised when Xanatos attempted another conversation (though she didn’t miss the slight nervous strain in his voice).

“Why are you here then?”

“My family and I are immigrating.”

“Why?”

Most people tended to ask if they were allowed to inquire but Shmi had already gathered Xanatos was socially awkward. “Oh, a lot of reasons. We were farmers but the rain season over the past three years was worse than normal so our crops drowned. This season the whole valley was underwater. The entire town was destroyed and the government hasn’t done enough to help. So my parents decided that, with the remaining credits we have, we’d go somewhere else.”

“Oh…” Xanatos thought over what he had been told. “I’m sorry you had to leave.”

Shmi gave a small sad smile, “So am I but I like to think that on Alderaan I have the chance to do more than farming. Dad always says that with every failure, there is a new opportunity for success.”

Xanatos thought of his own biological  father and wondered if he held the same values. No doubt Qui-Gon did, even in mundane tasks like gardening. Master Tahl probably did as well whenever she failed to find the knowledge she was searching for in the Archives she worked at. Both would find another way.

However… “Maybe my master and I will figure out another way to fix this mission,” he muttered.

“‘Fix’ the mission?” Shmi questioned curiously.

“We’re sort of stuck at the moment,” Xanatos explained. “My master says we have to trust this stranger but I think he’s just waiting to trick us.”

Shmi hummed thoughtfully to herself as she and Xanatos finished up the last few pots and pans. Then she offered to the boy, “I reckon you should trust your master and try to trust this stranger too. If he does betray you, then shame on him for exploiting the good will of others. _But_ I also like to remember that friends always start off as strangers, so you never what might happen.”

“Who told you that? Your dad?”

“Nope. Me,” Shmi replied proudly. And Xanatos couldn’t help but smile at her.

~o0o~

Never again did Obi-Wan have a platform to stand on and lecture Anakin on the meaning of patience because at the age of less-than-a-year-old Obi-Wan was loud and frustrating when something colourful wasn’t dancing in front of him. “No, stop, _stop_ ,” Anakin groaned as the baby tried to pull away from him. “Why do you have to – ? Stop _wiggling_!”

Obi-Wan released a disgruntled wail and thrashed in Anakin’s arms harder. Finally Anakin gave up and sat on the cold tiled ground. He bundled up his cloak and used it as a blanket to rest the still screaming baby on. Ignoring the looks of passing travellers, Anakin tried to think what the issue with Obi-Wan was. B3-S2 had recently attended to the youngling providing all the necessities so unless the droid poisoned him Anakin wasn’t certain what was wrong. Then again, was it out of character for B3-S2 to try anything?

…Minutes passed and Obi-Wan still relentlessly cried. Anakin leaned his head against the wall too hard and rubbed at the sore spot, silently pleading for some help. And the Force thankfully responded with the use of two elderly women directing him to a children’s play room on the ship. The couple had raised their own children many years ago and knew well when a baby was simply bored.

As Anakin, struggling to keep the squirming baby in his arms, strode towards the playroom he grumpily thought back to all the times Obi-Wan reprimanded him for being open with his boredom. _“I know you’re bored Anakin but goodness sake, don’t tell the whole galaxy!_ ” This would also transform into another lecture on the value of patience which Anakin always found mildly hypocritical. He never spoke up about it but Anakin always caught Obi-Wan’s fingers tapping as he waited for the kettle to boil or the irritated sigh when a book he had been hoping to read was taken from the Archives. “I swear to – _stop_!”

In a more peaceful mindset Anakin would have grimaced at the bright and colourful decorations for the children’s playroom. But he pushed through the door plastered with paper flowers and smiley faces, and into the chaos. Immediately the Force warned Anakin to duck when a toy was flung at him. Anakin caught the father scold his son for that type of behaviour before noticing that Obi-Wan had ceased his crying. Now he was curling up close, clutching at Anakin’s collar and glimpsing at the bundle of children and parents. Anakin could scarcely believe the mixture of fear and shyness coursing through the bond.

So Anakin carefully moved across the orange-carpeted room, narrowly dodging children’s hands and feet as though it was an obstacle course Rex had once described as part of the clone training. Along the way, Anakin saw a toddler eating dried macaroni, another sticking some up their nose, a little girl trying to chew her dolly’s plastic face before her mother stopped her, a boy trip into another kid, and then a girl screech when a boy toppled her building blocks. All of different species. Anakin passed a human mother interacting with her adopted Rodian son, and found a selection of doors leading to the ‘quiet’ rooms for especially young ones.

The small space was dark and cool. Simplistic storm clouds hovering above mountains were painted onto the walls. A light bulb dangling from the ceiling was shaped like a teardrop. There was a change station, a crib and a bundle of toys. Anakin had Obi-Wan get comfortable with the blue carpet as he inspected the toys. He found a playmat carrying toys of different materials and sounds. Once Obi-Wan was set up, it didn’t take the baby long to try everything. Obi-Wan clasped a fluffy ball and giggled when it made a wheezing noise, and tugged at a stuffed loth-cat, his eyes widening when scratchy material rubbed against soft skin. As he did this Anakin watched him. Anakin wondered how many more times he was going to be amazed that the baby and everything he did was also the same man that raised him, that stood by his side as a brother and then claimed love after darkness destroyed their lives…after Anakin allowed the darkness to destroy their lives.

When the image of Darth Sidious flashed in his mind, Anakin’s mechanical hand squeezed into a fist. Once he brought Obi-Wan, Padmé, Ahsoka and the Anakin from this time to Stewjon, he’d return to Coruscant and destroy Sidious. Even if he died doing so, it didn’t matter, as long as Sidious  – no, _Palpatine_ – was dead.

Anakin flinched when the door opened.

“Hope you don’t mind me dropping by,” Tahl said pleasantly.

Anakin glanced down. Watching Obi-Wan hug an Ewok plush toy was far easier than the woman. Tahl exhaled heavily and seated herself at the opposite end of Anakin, with the baby positioned in between them. Anakin knew he wasn’t been subtle with the way he purposely ignored the oddities that were Tahl’s eyes. The last time Anakin had seen those green and gold striped eyes, they had belonged to a Noorian rebel pleading for the release of death after days of torture. The Emperor had complied once he had the information he wanted but hadn’t allowed the death to be easy.

“To ease your thoughts,” Tahl spoke up again. The rebel’s screams echoed away. “I didn’t come here to pick a fight. I just wanted to meet Obi-Wan.”

Anakin’s hand hovered over the baby, preventing Tahl’s from touching him. “You don’t need to,” he said shortly.

“But I would like to,” Tahl replied. She saw Obi-Wan notice her. He reached to her and cooed eagerly. Tahl gave a small warm smile as Anakin silently grumbled over Obi-Wan’s traitorous behaviour and removed his hand. “He’s very sweet. Small though, for his age.”

Anakin knew exactly what she was doing. He was beginning to wonder if Obi-Wan had taken few lessons on diplomacy from her. Tahl was prompting Anakin to take part in the conversation on his ‘own accord’ with a very heavy and open invitation igniting a curiosity match. Anakin knew the game she was playing. “How old is he?” If Anakin knew what she was doing and was going along with it anyway, then his dignity was at least intact. He hoped.

However this didn’t stop him from giving Tahl a look. A look his Obi-Wan knew all too well. A lightning strike would have been more subtle than Anakin’s expression. Tahl took a moment to realise that they were both riding the same speeder and answered evenly, “Five months.”

Anakin remembered Count Dooku solemnly telling Master Nu about a baby too young to be brought to the Temple. Never did Anakin think he’d find himself agreeing with the Count of all people but here he was. If Anakin Skywalker was deemed too old by the Council, fine but as far as Anakin was concerned, Obi-Wan Kenobi had been too young.

Tahl combed her fingers through the baby’s orange locks and said, “You can tell by his behaviour. He can pick up on our emotions and respond to them.”

She then proceeded to tell Anakin that Obi-Wan’s ability to hold his upper body up while lying on his stomach was another indicator, along with his experimentation of sounds and trying to mimic the words emitting from others. As she explained, Tahl waved a yellow toy in front of Obi-Wan and the baby grabbed it from her and held it tightly as drool spilled from the corner of his mouth. By the end, Anakin couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful for the information. “How do you know all this?”

Tahl shrugged, “I work in the Archives.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, “Just because you work there doesn’t mean you read everything.”

“True,” Tahl admitted with a smirk. “But it means I always have access to that knowledge. As you know yourself, why ignore the invitation when you know it’s there?”

Anakin had a smart word to say to that but Obi-Wan barged into their conversation with an excited scream. At first Anakin thought the worst had happened but Tahl tickled the baby and talked to him in that gooey mushy tone. Then Tahl sat straight and turned to him. She said calmly, “I saw you that day, snooping around the Archives. I didn’t think much of it but I was intrigued by the topics you were exploring. Jedi philosophy on the Force and time. Very curious.”

Once again, Anakin found he couldn’t bear to look at her in the eye. Very curious indeed.

~o0o~

When B3-S2 returned to the cabin room the group was packed into, it considered if Anakin would be impressed with its adventures in the land known as ‘emotional territory.’ Jumping out of the pact made between them had sounded appealing until the ship’s crew had kindly taken the droid (and few other flesh tourists, but they’re not important) on a tour around the bridge. All of B3-S2’s misgivings with its situation and the awful company it was attached to disappeared like the happiness of a certain tourist when B3-S2 bumped caf onto their shirt. Whatever grievous problems arose, B3-S2 was committed to keep track of its goal and return the baby to its home planet. Then one day, it would be a droid soaring through space.

So B3-S2 noted Anakin’s pleasure for successfully setting up the baby cot and decided against ruining the human’s good mood. Instead of acknowledging the newfound determination, the human would most likely focus on the beginning of the story where B3-S2 was casted in shadows of doubt. Such a shame considering B3-S2 had acquired a lot of information on the ship once it connected itself to one of the control panels and downloaded a majority of its files. No one spotted the droid but one doesn’t become a certified babysitting droid for nothing.

B3-S2 had been blocked from accessing the ship’s controls but the droid forgave the humans for that. It would just come back tomorrow.

Someone knocked at the door. B3-S2 was feeling nice that evening and answered it, allowing the two adult Jedi to come in with trays carrying food for everyone. Anakin visibly relaxed at the smell of hot food. As Tahl and Qui-Gon arranged the table and Anakin fed the baby with some level of competence, B3-S2, still at the door, picked up movement at the edges of its vision. Looking closer, down the hallway, it found the padawan brat talking with a human girl. The droid hummed thoughtfully, secretly astounded the girl hadn’t been subjected to the boy’s temper yet. If the droid had lips like flesh beings, a sneaky grin would be snaking its way across its face. Luckily for B3-S2 it wasn’t cursed with such foul features and instead quietly went back inside.

Xanatos did come in for dinner a few minutes later. Anakin with B3-S2 and Obi-Wan still kept their distance from the Jedi trio. When they were lost in conversation B3-S2 realised the boy hadn’t mentioned the girl and tried to stir the pot. It leaned over to Anakin and said with voice volume down low, <Want to know something interesting about the boy?>

“No.”

<…Oh> B3-S2 watched Anakin catch a few slices of vegetables on a fork, swish them in gravy before eating it. <You’re no fun> the droid decided with a huff.

~o0o~

At last everyone was asleep. Qui-Gon sighed with relief. Sleep was exactly what everyone needed. Young Kenobi had been the first to drift off but had grizzled beforehand, telling poor Luke that he was not a happy baby to be forced into such a predicament. Much to Qui-Gon’s surprise, Luke had sought out Tahl’s advice. After the baby, Xanatos and Tahl joined him. Luke had tried to stay up until he was the last one standing but after such a stressful day, the young man had given into temptation, snoring softly into a pillow. B3-S2 had also powered down, positioned next to the cot for obvious reasons. So that left Qui-Gon seated on his designated mattress, hands resting on his knees, surrounded by slow breaths and the rumbling ship engines. Today had been remarkably different from the expected afternoon tea and biscuits, and Qui-Gon doubted tomorrow would present him with strawberry tarts and special leaves from the Outer Rim.

Qui-Gon slowed his breathing to the pace of his sleeping companions and allowed the Force to brush along the shores of his mind like breaking waves. Along this beach where the lush forest that is Qui-Gon meets with the ocean that is the Force, the Jedi cautiously pressed footprints into the sand as he, in turn, beckoned the Force to communicate with him. Wind from the sea rustled his hair and encouraged the man to follow its path. Qui-Gon obeyed. Down the beach he came across a docked boat and recognised it as the bond between him and Xanatos. It was built from deep rich wood, with the stories they shared carved into its sides, and the sail stood tall and grand, but it flapped unceremoniously as though it was about to break away. Qui-Gon held the ropes keeping the sail tied to the ship and was confident in its strength.

He moved on. The following boat was the oldest one resting comfortably on the beach. The wood was eccentric in its colouring, reds and browns blending into spirals, and it reflected the energetic spirit of Tahl. Their stories were also shared upon the wood. The sail had been stitched up after many battles. Qui-Gon reached out to stroke the bond but it rocked away. The man baulked at the behaviour and then the boat leaned back into his touch.

The wind moved him along until Qui-Gon found another boat. It was unfamiliar. Qui-Gon’s eyes widened at the pitch black colour of the ship, of this bond. The wood was cracked, the sail was shredded and the small carvings that were there had been scratched out. Qui-Gon found himself cautious of contacting this bond, unsure of who it was connected to. However, as he stepped closer the sun on the ocean’s line intensified its shine. Golden rays gleamed onto the boat and warmed its cold body. Qui-Gon nodded. This boat was not yet lost but needed much guidance. Yet the matter of who this bond was attached to still hung in the air, but the Force stayed quiet.

Instead the Force prompted Qui-Gon further. Another boat. The wood of this boat was maroon with streaks of orange branching from its middle to the tip of its front. At the back though, the red matched that of blood and looked like a stain. Qui-Gon’s inspected the sail. By all accounts it should have escaped the mast long ago with the ropes dangling and useless, but the sail remained as though fiercely loyal to an undeserving companion. Qui-Gon edged closer when the wind picked up, sweeping around him and forceful enough to move his body. Qui-Gon peered at the carvings and attentively touched it. Immediately, Qui-Gon knew who this bond belonged to.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

But this wasn’t right. Qui-Gon barely knew this child. A few hours did not warrant the creation of a bond let alone one etched with stories to tell. Qui-Gon felt nerves prickle his heart as he watched the gleam of sunlight shining onto the pitch black boat left behind long shadows that overwhelmed the red boat. It didn’t feel right in the Force but the Jedi also saw that the boats were rocking in sync with the push of the ocean waves. Qui-Gon tried to maintain patience but found himself desperate for answers. The Force replied by splashing a wave against the darkened back of the red boat. Qui-Gon moved to it and, despite his building concern, touched it.

The beach darkened and a storm hit the shore. But Qui-Gon didn’t hear the roar of the wind, the hissing of sea spray or the ruckus of tree tops. All he heard were voices echoing in his mind.

_“You are my last chance to be a Jedi Knight.”_

_“No Obi-Wan, that is not why I am here.”_

_“You deliberately disobeyed my orders!”_

_“With respect, I am not under your charge Qui-Gon Jinn.”_

_“You’re testing me aren’t you? You’ve changed your mind. You’re considering me for your Padawan.”_

_“No, Obi-Wan, I am not testing you.”_

_A feeling of despair wracked through Qui-Gon though it was not his._

_Words and phrases gushed through Qui-Gon like a broken dam. Bandomeer, Melida/Daan, Phindar, Gala, Cerasi, Tahl, Xanatos, Yoda, Siri, Bant, Zen Arbor –_

– _Naboo, Tatooine, Padmé, Anakin, Shmi, the Sith, and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, OBI-WAN!_

_An agonising pain erupted in Qui-Gon’s torso. Captured in the Force’s storm Qui-Gon could hardly see in front of him yet he saw the red glow and felt hot searing pain. A deadly creature with sharp horns, yellow eyes and red skin grinned triumphantly at its success. Amongst the pain, Qui-Gon heard a young man cry_ –

A baby was crying.

Qui-Gon snapped awake. Glistening with sweat and heaving, Qui-Gon shakily attempted to compose himself. The Force scurried away and returned to its peaceful state like the calm waves of the expansive ocean. Qui-Gon swallowed thickly and finally reacted to the baby’s increasing cries. Before anyone could awake, Qui-Gon left his bed and stumbled to the cot. He gripped it and stared at the baby. Hesitantly, Qui-Gon picked up young Obi-Wan Kenobi and held him close. It dimly occurred to the Jedi that the last time he had held Obi-Wan, he had caught the youngling after the droid lost him in the sky race. Qui-Gon thought back to all the boats resting upon the shores of his mind, especially the maroon one, and held the baby tighter.

As Obi-Wan was rocked back to sleep, Qui-Gon looked to Luke who was fast asleep and was reminded of those synchronised boats.

~o0o~

At 2 in the morning, the baby awoke again. B3-S2 responded. It bitched the entire time.

~o0o~

As soon as Anakin blearily opened his eyes, he sat up and searched for Obi-Wan in the cot. No one had tried to snatch him in the night. Anakin wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not. Anakin stretched like a loth-cat, satisfied when the right places popped but cringed when the skin linked to his mechanical limb folded uncomfortably. Once sleep had dispelled, Anakin activated B3-S2 and picked up Obi-Wan who was still snoozing away. Breakfast was calling.

The cafeteria had an odd smell. Soap from its last night clean and breakfast food wafted into a strange fragrance. B3-S2 almost ruined Anakin’s meal when it tried to bring up the positives in living without the need for food or dumping waste, but Anakin shoved an awoken Obi-Wan into the droid’s arms and kept it occupied. As Anakin and Obi-Wan were fed, more and more people entered the cafeteria as the morning carried along. Close to his table, a family four sat down.

A father. A mother. And two teenage daughters.

<Oh. There she is>

Anakin scowled at the droid’s unnecessary comment. But he was more annoyed with himself for getting sucked into B3-S2’s interest in one of the girls. Both the daughters had their backs to him. Obi-Wan blew bubbles with his mouth as his mind thought of nothing while Anakin’s was snagged like a fish to bait when one of the girls brought up her meeting a friend, a boy named Xanatos. The former-Sith silently figured that this was what B3-S2 had thought was fascinating enough to test Anakin’s level of nosiness…

…Fair enough. It sounded like something to be used against that padawan brat which wasn’t so bad.

“ – Eat your eggs Shmi, I know – ”

Anakin faltered.

The teenage girl turned to her side and Anakin stared.

He abruptly stood up, knocking down the table and plate. B3-S2, holding Obi-Wan, rolled back. The cafeteria silenced. Shmi Skywalker had turned to the chaos and Anakin had no choice but to accept what was in front of him. Behind the family, Qui-Gon, Tahl and Xanatos stood at the entrance of the cafeteria, gaping at the mess Anakin had made.

This hardly mattered to Anakin Skywalker.

He glared at Xanatos and said sharply, “You little shit.”

And then the ship was pulled out of hyperspace.

~o0o~

Captain Calrissian grunted as she lifted herself off the ground. The passenger ship was trembling. The woman gasped when her crew drew her attention to a large dark silver ship heading their way. After many years in battle and exploring the space landscape and witnessing the best and worst humanity had to offer, Calrissian was able to identify who the perpetrators were.

It was a slave ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to admit something, I was actually kind of proud of Qui-Gon’s meditation metaphor thing. I thought it was kind of clever. No surprise as to what inspired it. Earlier than day I had gone to see Moana for the third time cause I just love that movie. 
> 
> I also found it amusing that most of the comments were like, “Oh yay Shmi!” followed by “Oh god, Shmi. Freaking Anakin!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit is going down!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have been without Internet for over a week. Kill me.   
> Apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

Smacking one’s forehead was not a pleasant experience.

Anakin would always put incineration at the top of his list of his most painful moments however, much like the sting of a papercut, the pain from a bruised head is truly only understood as it is being experienced. Anakin rubbed at the spot between his hairline and left eyebrow, willing the Force to heal the injury so he didn’t look like an alien race from Hutt Space. To think, Vader had been tempted to deliver real pain when he overheard a Stormtrooper whimper about his head injury upon hijacking Princess Leia’s ship. Anakin heard a chorus of groans around him and remembered what had caused the disruption in the first place.

The ship had been dramatically lurched out of its hyperspace jump.

Hoisting his torso up with his elbows, Anakin got a grand view of the cafeteria’s destruction. Tables were flipped, food was splattered in all decorations and mimicked modern art styles, and the occupants were helping each other get up, murmuring in confusion over the cause. Anakin felt an ache in his stomach and the pressure of the Force weighing on his shoulders. Something felt wrong and it wasn’t just his headache.

As if agreeing with the former Sith, the emergency siren blared. Flashes of red coloured everyone’s vision (except for the few occupants who were either colour blind or entirely blind). An announcement came through the speakers calling for everyone to remain calm and probably head back to their cabin rooms but Anakin wasn’t really paying much attention. He was too busy looking for her.

And found her, he did. Shmi Skywalker was on her bleeding knees, watching her mother and father communicate only through facial expressions, and hugging her younger sister close. Anakin felt something nudge his shoulder but barely registered it. All he could think about were the family of four. He had a grandfather. He had a grandmother. And an aunt. Anakin refused to feel shame when his eyes burned with building tears. The Jedi had never been his family no matter how often Obi-Wan tried to sell the idea. But these people, right here, _they_ were his family.

The Jedi could _never_ –

< –Sir!>

Now, Anakin’s sore forehead was accompanied by pain in the skull. Anakin whirled to the droid that had so boldly hit him, just about ready to rip its head off. “What do you –!?”

< –I thought you would like to know that our Jedi friends have left>

Anakin frowned and glanced to where Qui-Gon, Tahl and Xanatos had stood previously. Just as B3-S2 reported, they were gone.

<But I guess you just don’t care>

“Where did they go?” Anakin got to his feet.

<Why should I know?> B3-S2 shot back, before muttering. <Probably the bridge>

“Right,” Anakin cleared his throat and hoisted the droid up. The crowd were already moving in a fretful fashion through the exists on their way to the cabins. Red still burned the white tiles and the siren continued to abuse eardrums. “We should –”

Anakin stopped when a tug in the Force ceased his movements. Someone was calling him. Anakin baulked when he realised who it was. Anakin followed the source travelling across the bound and found baby Obi-Wan covered by abandoned items. Obi-Wan gazed into Anakin’s face with adoration but a hint of puzzlement buzzed through their bond. Anakin held the baby close and muttered a stream of apologies. B3-S2 stared at the human adult in its own bout of confusion too. The droid’s excuse was its hatred of children, so it didn’t understand why its new owner had just forgotten.

<May I recommend we move to our cabin room?>

Anakin caressed the baby’s hair as he thought about the droid’s suggestion. The image of his mother and her family returned, and almost every emotion in him begged to be by their side. Almost. Others reined in by Obi-Wan’s influence reminded him that something was wrong and perhaps addressing this problem was the far more efficient way in protecting the Skywalkers. Anakin steadied his breathing, pleased with his mind for remembering how Obi-Wan would do things, and firmly committed himself to following his master’s teachings. _Stay calm. Just stay calm._

“No,” Anakin decided. “I’m going to the bridge.”

<Oh. Shall _I_ then retreat to the cabin with the youngling? >

The thought of leaving Obi-Wan with a droid equipped with only babysitting accessories and no real defence left Anakin feeling anxious. He shook his head. “No. Obi-Wan stays with me.” He began to head in the direction the Jedi went and heard B3-S2 follow after him.

<That hardly sounds like a safe place for him>

With the siren still blasting, Anakin held Obi-Wan close, “I know but it’s the safest option right now.”

~o0o~

Captain Calrissian was not happy. From the moment her brown eyes (the favourite of all her suitors) had laid upon the slaver’s ship, a grim prickly feeling washed up and down her body like painful waves. Her shoulders had been bumped badly but the woman paid it no mind. She barked orders and instructed the ship to enter emergency mode. And then she and her crew gaped when the silver ship branched out its docking tube. It was far larger than most. It completely blocked Calrissian’s vision of the back of her ship. A loud clunk resonated along the walls when the tube connected and many faces turned white once it was realised the slavers had connected as close as possible to the bridge.

It did not take a genius to know the slavers intended to gain complete control of this ship and steal those on board. Well Calrissian wasn’t having it. Her past troubled teenage self reminded her of previous gambling problems that were dashed away upon signing up for the military. Calrissian’s life depended on doing her people proud. She ordered a crewmember to send out a distress beacon hoping someone would hear it and respond quickly. The woman then pulled back her frizzy hair (the second favourite of her suitors) into a high bun and strapped two blasters to her belt. They thumped against her thighs as she and her crew marched towards the main entrance hall. Her second-in-command answered a call on her commlink and the report came in that a small battle had ensured at the door connected to the slaver’s docking tube. No one was certain how long they could hold them off.

Calrissian was about ready to demand someone to find the Jedi when the mysterious individuals met them in the hallway. The female Jedi, Tahl Uvain, was the first to make a suggestion. Diminished pride was dismissed to make way for a stronger part of Calrissian that wanted everyone on this ship safe regardless of the cost to her reputation. So she listened to Master Uvain’s offered plan – it involved stretching their numbers.

“Our biggest problem is the docking tube,” Tahl said, one hand curled around the lightsabre at her belt. “If we can disconnect our ships then we prevent anyone from being captured. Captain, if you and I distract the slavers long enough, Qui-Gon and Xanatos can complete their task.”

“Alright,” Calrissian agreed. She turned to Qui-Gon and added, “I’m assigning a few of my men to your aid. I can’t risk leaving the docking tube unsupervised, but I will need the rest. I doubt these scum will want tea and biscuits in the main entrance hall.”

“Understood,” Qui-Gon yielded patiently. “However I am concerned for the civilians. Will they be well protected with so few to help them?”

Calrissian grinded her teeth at the shared frustration of their tight numbers. Tahl answered for her, “So long as we can keep most of the slavers on the north side of the ship and block their entrance to the south, the civilians should be safe. If anyone is captured, you and Xanatos can prevent them from reaching the ship.”

The unspoken ending of this sentence was, _We hope._

The grim atmosphere tensed when footsteps sounded. All but the Jedi drew their weapons and pointed at the poor unsuspecting newcomers. Upon recognising the young man, baby and droid, Calrissian withdrew but remained tight with anticipation. She noticed that the teenage Jedi had balled his fists, Uvain looked confused while Jinn had a glint in his eyes that reminded the captain of her drinking days at local pubs. Jinn’s hands disappeared into his robe’s sleeves as he said brightly, “Luke is exactly who we need.”

Calrissian couldn’t say she was as optimistic about this ‘Luke’ as Jinn was.

 “Qui-Gon – ” Tahl began uneasily.

“ –We need someone to protect the civilians while we attend to our tasks,” Qui-Gon clarified. “Luke is up for the job. I am certain of it.” Although a little taken aback, Luke straightened himself out. Faint surprise flittered through Calrissian, comparing his posture to her and her old army mates. This young man knew military protocol.  The picture was ruined by the baby bumping its head into Luke’s neck. Feeling better about Luke’s involvement, Calrissian vocally agreed. She then addressed her armed and armoured personnel to put the plan into action.

Just out of her hearing reach, the Jedi trio were engaged in a discussion. Tahl had grabbed Qui-Gon’s sleeve and forced him to look at the face of opposition. She hissed his name and continued quietly underneath’s Calrissian’s voice, “ _What_ are you doing? What are you _thinking_ putting this much responsibility on him?”

Xanatos nodded fiercely. Qui-Gon looked at both at them in disappointment, “Here I was thinking both of you were warming up to him.”

Tahl sagged in disbelief as Xanatos snorted, “No!”

Qui-Gon sighed before saying with conviction, “We’ve established that Luke has no ill intentions. He has volunteered to help and we need him.”

Xanatos rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah. Cause bringing a baby to a warzone is such a wise decision.”

Qui-Gon gave his padawan that, “We’ll have Luke take them to a cabin for their protection. Have some faith in him.” While Qui-Gon found the pact between Tahl and Xanatos a sight to behold he wasn’t pleased it was directed at him. He saw Luke awkwardly shifting his feet waiting for someone to explain what exactly he had signed up for.

“Qui, listen to me,” Tahl tried again patiently. “It’s not that I think Luke has… ‘ill intentions’ as you say. I simply do not believe we can trust him to behave appropriately –”

“ –appropriately?” Qui-Gon scoffed.

“ _Yes_ ,” Tahl stressed. “Surely you can see that Luke isn’t the most stable of beings? How do we know he’ll do the right thing when the time comes?”

Xanatos watched the masters go back and forth and felt the chill underneath their interaction. As far as the padawan could tell, this was only part 2 of a previous discussion. Qui-Gon still maintained a calm Jedi visage but the strain in his facial muscles told of his irritation. “Tahl, you have to trust Luke. I know we can trust him. You are being entirely unreasonable!”

Tahl gaped at her best friend. She whirled to Xanatos then back to Qui-Gon and muttered, “Oh, yes, how foolish of me to think you’d see the problem.” Xanatos flinched at the woman’s cold words and Qui-Gon himself looked like he was about to crack, but Tahl interrupted with a dismissive, “ _Fine._ Let him protect the civilians.”

At that Tahl strode away to meet with Calrissian. Qui-Gon stared after her. Xanatos cautiously moved to his master’s side like all good padawans are meant to. He ignored a faint sting when Qui-Gon immediately moved away to address the group of personnel assigned to him. Xanatos stared at his boots thinking back to previous arguments between his master and Tahl; their friendship had an odd effect on both of them.

“So what’s going on?”

Xanatos only just held back a surprised punch. He faced Luke and was about to recommend putting the baby in a safe place but figured his chances of survival were larger if he simply answered Luke’s question. Glancing at the droid stationed behind Luke, Xanatos wondered if B3-S2 held the same opinion or, judging by its general lack of caring for anyone under the age of 10, it had simply stayed quiet and allowed Luke to get this far with Kenobi…Xanatos realised he was avoiding the topic and pushed himself to answer Luke’s query. “We’re being attacked by slavers and – ”

The following words were caught in his throat as he witnessed pure boiling rage poison Luke’s face. A flicker of gold dashed across Luke’s normally blue eyes and Xanatos started, stepping back from the young man. He felt ice shards crash through his stomach when everything that was Luke seemed to darken and froth like a volcano. Just as Xanatos was about to run to his master’s safety and security, warm and brilliant light in the Force flashed and chased the darkness away. Both young men awoke from this cold storm to see Obi-Wan squirming in Luke’s arms and screeching at the monster his carer had momentarily become. Xanatos wanted to rip the baby away from this dangerous being but was terrified that would only make thing worse.

“Xanatos,” Qui-Gon said, returning to the teenager’s side. The padawan flinched again and looked to the floor. “Did you explain to Luke our plan?”

“…Not yet.”

“Oh… Luke, perhaps you should move Ken – Obi-Wan and B3-S2 to a safer location,” Qui-Gon recommended. Xanatos didn’t like the way Luke’s upper lip slightly twitched. What frustrated him more was his master’s apparent blindness to it all. “Then we’ll need you to stay on the southern side of the ship to protect the civilians. Keep your commlink close so we can contact each other. Tahl and the Captain will distract the slavers here, while Xanatos and I find a way to disconnect the ships. Understood?”

“…Yeah,” Luke’s voice was strained. “Got it.”

“Good,” Qui-Gon graced Luke with a smile that sparked flames of jealousy in Xanatos. “May the Force be with you.” With that, Qui-Gon placed a hand on his padawan’s shoulders and directed him, and their assigned staff down another hallway.

Xanatos looked over his shoulder to see Luke in deep thought, hard lines wrecking his youthful face. He tried to take influence from Shmi’s advice on finding friends in strangers and to see the wisdom in his master’s optimism but Xanatos simply couldn’t shake the grim feeling choking him like smog.

At the southern side of the ship, Shmi Skywalker hugged her arms around herself and murmured, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

~o0o~

 

_Calm down Anakin. Just stay calm. Everything will be alright._

Anakin sucked in a deep shuddering breath. He felt like he was drowning. He swallowed thickly and ignored the hard stare from B3-S2. Blotted spots of moss green splashed across his vision as Anakin reached out to the Force, clawing at its bright energy and dragging it in. Young Obi-Wan was teary again, his small fists thumping Anakin’s chest and his Force signature flashing at the tendrils of darkness trying to snake around both of them.

_Padawan, please, stay calm._

_But how?_ Anakin thought desperately. He pulled Obi-Wan closer. The baby’s soothing company was the only thing containing Vader’s anger. Anakin felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff. The rolling waves crashing against splintered rocks beckoned Anakin back into the comforting power of the Dark Side and the ease of anonymity under Vader’s name and mask. But –

– but the suit had burned, had _burned_ so badly –

The tiny baby called again. Shaking, Anakin looked into the intense blue eyes of his young master. For a moment, it felt like…

…someone else was there.

_Stay calm._

“I will,” Anakin decided. He moved away from the cliff and headed towards the ship’s southern side, the determined spark that encapsulated the Clone Wars’ Hero With No Fear fuelling his steps. “Come on B3.”

<…Coming>

~o0o~

The Living Force was behaving strangely. Experiencing the Living Force usually felt like sinking one’s feet into cool wet sand before a gentle wave rolls over and washes your toes. Now though, the ocean had retreated, drying out the sand and leaving it to bake in the hot sun. Qui-Gon knew that the ocean would return but whether it would be gradual process like the swell of tides or in an hasty burst like the crashing wall of a tsunami, the Jedi did not know. It was this unpredictability of the Living Force that unnerved Qui-Gon.

For now he called upon the lessons from his master and grandmaster. _Just stay calm. Allow your passions to be guided. You are watering a plant. It needs the nutrients but moderate yourself. You must not drown the plant._ Now, Qui-Gon had an garden of plotted plants occupying his balcony. His padawan had once complained about the lack of space but that stopped once he was instructed to weed the plants for a lesson in respect for those without vocal chords.

“Master,” Xanatos spoke up. “Luke still has my lightsabre and I got yours. Do you want yours?”

“ No,” said Qui-Gon, touched by his padawan’s thoughts. “I’m a Jedi Master, while you are still training. You need my lightsabre more than I do.”

“Okay…” there was a pause before Xanatos muttered, “About Luke –”

“ –Padawan, _please_ ,” Qui-Gon didn’t bother containing his irritation. It seeped through their bond.

“ –No, Master, there’s something wrong with him,” Xanatos desperately argued. He had to almost run to catch up to Qui-Gon’s fast pace. “When I told him about the slavers he went all, I don’t know, _dark_ and –”

“ –dark?” Qui-Gon repeated in disbelief.

“ – Yes, _dark_ , and stop interrupting me,” Xanatos pressed. “I really do think we should take Obi-Wan away from Luke as soon as possible. He’s not safe around him.”

Qui-Gon kept his eyes on the small group of men and women storming ahead of them, their blasters poised and ready for the conflict just around the corner. They could already see coloured lights blink and the sound of lazers zapping along the walls. Now wasn’t the time to discuss whatever exaggerated problem Tahl and Xanatos saw in Luke.

“Xanatos, _enough_ ,” Qui-Gon stated firmly. “There is no reason to take – ”

“ –He’s dangerous Master,” Xanatos snapped. “Everyone else can see it, why can’t you?”

The conversation ended abruptly when a handful of their personnel were sent flying back towards them. With the aid of the Force, Qui-Gon and Xanatos avoided the spiralling bodies. Most were alright, grunting and heaving themselves up as soon as they hit the floor, while two were knocked unconsciousness. All of them were united in their fear for the being responsible. Qui-Gon and Xanatos’ eyes widened when a Zygerrian turned a corner and introduced herself, standing between the Jedi and the door to the docking tube.

“Greetings,” the young woman called. “What a pleasant surprise to see Jedi skulking around.”

“A pleasure,” Qui-Gon replied.

The Zygerrian looked only a few years older than Xanatos. Tall, sleek and sharp due to her feline features. Her fur was a dark brown, with patches of white dotted across her face. Her ears  were pointed, torn yet decorated with pierced glittery jewellery. In direct contrast, her clothing was black, armoured and covering a majority of her body, aside from a long tail that curled like a preying snake. Surrounding her was the Force, bending to her will. Although the works of the Jedi hadn’t graced her powers, she was still trained on some level.

Behind the Jedi and crew, they heard the clattering of boots and blasters. Using the hallways, the Zygerrians under this woman’s command had snuck behind them. The handful of crewmembers readied their weapons and in less than a second, the battle continued. Qui-Gon and Xanatos, relying on their men and women to guard their backs, faced the Zygerrian woman.

Xanatos activated his master’s lightsabre. This and a warning from the Force was the only chance of preparation the Jedi had before the Zygerrian woman leapt and threw her own power over the Force at them.

While Qui-Gon was like a mountain, sturdy in his structure and remained in place, Xanatos staggered and his lightsabre slipped. Defending his padawan, Qui-Gon took on the Zygerrian himself in hand-to-hand combat, issuing advice over the training bond. When Qui-Gon was a young padawan and too tall for his age, his master had taught him many lessons on applying one’s body in a fight. The size and weight of a body should never be perceived as a burden, Master Dooku had learnt from Master Yoda. It simply meant you applied your body in its own individualised way, like everybody else. From there, Qui-Gon had confidently chosen the acrobatic form of Ataru to shape his lightsabre practise. With a grin, the large Jedi used his hand to catch the Zygerrian’s fist, taking advantage of her brief moment of confusion to slam a palm into her chest, knocking the wind out of her.

Meanwhile, Xanatos was pushed away from his master by the Zygerrian’s Force roadblock. The padawan seethed and concentrated on his control of the Force, demanding it to push back against the woman’s. At first the Force felt unhappy with the boy’s bossy attitude but relented when it felt Xanatos’ frantic need to join his master’s side. Xanatos bolted past the Zygerrian’s powers and attempted to swipe at her with the lightsabre. She summersaulted back, but not before digging her sharp claws into Qui-Gon’s hand and tearing through skin. Blood cacked the woman’s claws as she glared at her opponents.

The door to the docking tube slid open.

“Kida,” a voice growled. Another Zygerrian slaver marched in.

“What?” the woman sneered, her eyes fixed on the Jedi.

“Your father is waiting on you,” the male Zygerrian replied smartly.

This ‘Kida’ tensed, “I almost have it. Just give me a moment.”

_What is she talking about?_ Xanatos asked over the training bond.

Kida dived again. Spurred on by whatever role she had to play, the Zygerrian was faster than before, focusing on speed rather than brutality. It was only due to their bond that Xanatos hadn’t accidentally sliced Qui-Gon’s head off with the way Kida snaked her body around theirs and directed their attacks. Huffing and her ears flat against her head, Kida took the risk, her leg narrowly dodging the lightsabre to land her foot into the boy’s ribs. However, she realised it had cost her her balance. Just as Qui-Gon was about to land a punch, he was suddenly bashed away. Kida stumbled back and contained a growl when her father’s second-in-command cracked his knuckles, pleased with his handy work on the large Jedi.

“I don’t need your help, Tai-Ro!”

“You’re too slow. It was hardly worth the effort stealing from a Jedi,” his scorned. Then he showed off a commlink dancing between his fingers. Kida fumed at his achievement. Qui-Gon grunted as he got up. He frowned when the male Zygerrian crushed his commlink with his meaty hands. Tai-Ro barely changed his smug facial expression when he engaged with the huge Jedi again. Unlike Kida, his body was far more suited to fighting against hulking bodies.

Leaving Tai-Ro to the master, Kida slammed her boot onto the padawan’s fingers. Their connection to the Force wrestled between them. A bead of sweat rolled down her neck as Kida only just won the match. Clearly the boy wasn’t even close to knighthood, having spent too much energy into the match and was now heaving with exhaustion. Kida used the Force to press the boy down to the floor so she could search. Her keen eyes found the other commlink and she swiftly destroyed it. She sniffed dismissively at Xanatos’ fierce glare. Building up what felt like a ball of energy from the Force, she flung the Jedi away like they were bowling pins. The rest of the slavers were then ordered to aim for the pair, keeping their attention on the lasers. “We’re done,” she told Tai-Ro. “I’ll tell father – ”

“ – _No_ , I’ll be the one to tell him,” Tai-Ro said sharply, taking out his own commlink.

 

~o0o~

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

Tahl repeated the phrase to herself. As she, the Captain and the crew marched towards their destination, Tahl allowed for brief meditation to calm herself. Despite her Jedi training, she still felt an avalanche of frustration and betrayal inch closer towards her heart, threating to crash and bury it under its emotional weight. Normally, the snowy mountain landscape that was Tahl Uvain was tranquil and the clouds carrying fresh snowflakes that was the Force regularly visited and complemented the serene scenery. It was a delicate balance. Tahl’s lessons from the Archives formed into the trees that scattered across the mountain, and when snow gracefully landed on their leaves, the Force blessed her newfound knowledge, merging it all together into Tahl’s very being.

A cluster of cottages were nestled at the bottom of the mountain. Although not natural inhabitants of the quiet land, they belonged. Except on certain occasions when the ruckus from some disturbed the mountain. Clumps of snow would lose their footing on branches, once motionless snow banks shifted or were trampled by feet, or a build-up of noise and commotion might bring forth a total imbalance and invite an avalanche.

Tahl breathed in the Force. The chilling wind froze the winter landscape and peace was tempted to return like hibernating birds when it was chased off by a new Force presence. It came in the form of a big bright sun that burned through the grey clouds. Unlike pleasant warm days, this one reeked of unnatural climate change. Tahl returned to reality.

Around her the ship’s crew had arranged a battle zone, using crates and tables for cover. Calrissian stood at the centrepiece of her brave men and women. With a Jedi beside her, Calrissian’s lack of fear was supported by trust in Tahl’s capabilities rather than naivety. They did not have to wait long for the slavers to meet them, all Zygerrian with a particularly huge figure leading the group. Its golden eyes almost shone from its matted black fur. Captain Calrissian took a deep breath and announced, “I don’t take kindly to uninvited guests. Unless you have connections to the Jedi Council, I suggest you leave before things get ugly.”

Tahl allowed a small smile.

The massive Zygerrian growled and a few of the younger staff were convinced they felt it vibrate through the tiled ground. In a flash of movement, a much smaller and stockier Zygerrian beside the tall beast stepped in front. His cat ears were curled and decorated, the dark maroon clothing blended into his bark brown fur and all of his pointed teeth winked when he grinned. He jerked a clawed thumb at his big companion and jeered, “Don’t talk to Fray in that matter. She’s sensitive, got a heart made of mashed potato, this one. Now me, on the other hand, keep on talking. I like the sound of ‘ugly.’ Is that a promise miss…?”

Around the captain and Jedi, their crew fidgeted, uncomfortable with their assumptions on the leader of the slavers. Calrissian rolled her eyes. She too had come across many occasions in which personalities contrasted to appearance however she was hardly going to punish herself in this scenario. This leader had purposely positioned the large Zygerrian – ‘Fray’ – at front and centre, with himself off to the left. He orchestrated their reactions. Judging by the Jedi’s hard stare, she also understood what had happened.

Calrissian cleared her throat and answered, “‘Ms’, actually –”

“ –Well, Miss Ms, I hope you don’t mind but we – ”

“ – _Excuse me_ ,” Clarissian snapped. She always had a problem with people interrupting her. “If _you_ don’t mind, you have violated multiple galactic laws including an unsanctioned disruption of a hyperjump, and docking against the consent of the captain, therefore trespassing on private Coruscant property. I hereby place you and your crew under arrest. If you come quietly, I might consider arguing for a lighter sentence.”

Dramatically, the Zygerrians roared with laughter. All except for their leader who remained smirking, his whiskers twitching. Tahl had to hand it to Calrissian. The captain’s face reminded Tahl of the stone torso statues situated in the Archives. Their impressive features coldly measuring your qualities. For Tahl, since she was a small initiate, these statues had motivated her with a mixture of inspiration and intimation. There was a similar essence to Calrissian. It was then Tahl knew that these slavers, while most likely ruthless, were foolish in their unrelenting mockery. Except for their silent but sneering leader.

Hands on her hips, Tahl added the Jedi perspective into the mix, “You should think wisely on the captain’s words. You are in Core Territory and we have sent out a distress beacon. I understand you have a passion for the ‘ugly’, however every passion has its limits. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr…?”

The leader snickered and crossed his arms, “Nuro Narrin. A brilliant name, I know. My dearest Mama named me after my drunkard father. But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. What a pleasant surprise to see Jedi on board. Your kind fetch a hefty price. And with an exotic look like yours, I know you’d be popular with the lads.”

Narrin’s men jeered. A few wolf whistled and growled suggestively. The snow on Tahl’s mountain shifted but she maintained her composure. Grumpily, she supposed this was why unsolicited remarks from passing men to women on the streets was referred to as Zygerrian-calling. Calrissian bent down and whispered to her ear, “Ignore them. Got any other ideas to talk about? These kind of men always have little to say.”

Tahl shared with the captain a sympathetic smile and nodded. “I’m surprised you say this while standing in one piece, Mr Narrin,” Tahl spoke up again. “You are Force sensitive. Untrained but the Force bends to your will obediently albeit begrudgingly. Surely, you’d be quite the catch yourself?”

Before Narrin answered, one of his men asked for his attention. He was holding a commlink. He hissed into Narrin’s ears and the Force shook when his grin widened. Turning back to the Jedi, Narrin shrugged his shoulders, his fur bristling, “A fair enough deduction to make. But why go for the easy quick fix when you can earn far more long-term with someone like me? And I have to admit, I’m pretty damn good at my job.” He sent the Jedi woman a flirtatious click of the tongue and added nonchalantly, “So good in fact, that I know _exactly_ what you are doing. I’ve got a talent for that. When you steal enough people, you learn what they’ll do to protect themselves. Nice try trying to distract me but I have reliable people guarding my first entrance. You won’t be separating our ships anytime soon.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” Calrissian barked.

“Oh mind your mood swings there, miss!” Narrin teased. “Why don’t you lighten up a bit and be more like me, a happy person? I bet you’re like me, easier to handle when happy. But, let me tell you, keep up that attitude, and you’ll get me angry and I promise you, you _don’t_ want to see me angry.”

“If you think…!”

Tahl blocked the captain’s verbal attack and concentrated on Narrin. His posture was relaxed and easy-going, like a kind bloke you’d meet at a party. He’d charm your pants off but slip a drug in your drink when you aren’t looking. Tahl felt the Force push against her temples, pressing hard with every second as the Jedi tried to figure out what it was trying to tell her, what Narrin was doing. Then her brain caught up and she gasped aloud. The horror escaping her throat made Calrissian cease and turn to her, “What? What is it?”

“Captain! There’s a – ”

“ –Uhhhh no,” Narrin interrupted brightly before snapping his fingers.

The Zygerrians open fired. Calrissian and Tahl dived out of the way as their crew shot back, ducking and weaving around their cover. The copper smell of blood quickly stank the air along with sweat, and small explosions from laser impacts obscured the room with dust. Calrissian’s nails dug into Tahls’ arms as the two moved away enough to talk. In one hand, Tahl was pressing her commlink and growing more irritated when it was unable to connect to Qui-Gon or Xanatos. “What is going on?” Calrissian voiced her thoughts.

Stuffing the commlink back into a pocket, Tahl steadily announced, “Captain, there’s a _second_ entrance.”

“ _What_?” Calrissian’s heart skipped a beat. “How?”

“You heard Narrin,” Tahl reasoned. “He said there was a first entrance. Neither of us could even see the back of our ship with that docking tube. It must be that size to hide its second one.”

Calrissian’s grip on her blaster tightened, “There’s not enough people on the south side. And they got us occupied up here – ”

“ –Luke! We have Luke down there,” Tahl admitted. She placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder. “I can’t seem to reach Qui-Gon and Xanatos but Luke at the very least is there. We’ll do what we can.”

Calrissian grimaced, “Will that be enough?”

Tahl was eerily silent before saying thickly, “If the Force wields it to be.” At that, the Jedi activated her lightsabre. It glowed and hummed in enthusiasm. Rolling back her shoulders and cracking her knuckles, Calrissian steadied her blaster and entered the battle. Tahl held the commlink and seethed at the mess they were in. With the level of maturity Master Yoda would applaud, Tahl contacted Luke and told him what was learnt.

“No, we don’t need you to play the hero. _Protect_ the civilians above all else.”

~o0o~

When Shmi was ten years old a cyclone tore apart roots and send a tree crashing onto their house. All night long beforehand Shmi was jittery and biting her nails despite her mother’s instance to leave her fingers alone. The following day, her father climbed up the roof to assess the damage and repair it. Without extra funds to hire a professional or a harness, her father had only a firm grip to rely upon. Shmi pleaded with her father to leave it, to find another way round this problem. However, he simply brushed her off. Shmi chewed a lock of hair, her fitful heart aching, as she watched her father hike across the roof. He slipped. Toppled down the roof, landed on the ground and broke his leg in a matter of seconds. Later, with his leg securely wrapped by his wonderful wife, and sipping on hot soup he chuckled over the unfortunate occurrence. While her mother and sister joined him, Shmi fumed and wished they had believed her.

No, she didn’t understand why she felt this way. She just did.

“Mum, dad, _please_ , something feels wrong,” Shmi beseeched. Her sister, Milli huffed. Their parents directed the children to the side to avoid the bustling crowd heading back to their cabins. Shmi tugged hair strands behind her ears and continued nervously, “I don’t think we should go this way.”

“Darling –” her mother questioned.

As her father frowned, “ –We can’t just walk back.”

And her sister retorted, “ –And where we supposed to _go_ exactly?”

All three rounded on Shmi at once. The teenage girl stomped her foot, “I don’t know! I just know that something is wrong. We can’t go this way. Please, listen to me.”

Milli, Mum and Dad shared puzzled looks. None of them knew how to proceed. They loved Shmi but were lost on how to respond to this paranoia. As far as they could tell, the ship wasn’t in any immediate danger but even if something drastic happened, how would Shmi know? Shmi was about to burst into another argument when the crowd’s hustle and bustle was stabbed in the gut by a high pitch scream. It was followed by the smacking of bodies and eager snarls. As heads whirled to the commotion, and people scrambled away, more and more cries bubbled into hysteria when a group of nasty Zygerrians came into full view.  

As though swamped and dunked by a beach wave, the crowd overwhelmed Shmi and her family. The girl tried reaching for her sister’s hand but she was not fast enough. Milli’s wide hazel eyes were lost in the sea of heads. Shmi tried digging her feet into the ground but the forceful crowd was too strong for her. She was pushed back. Then her heart skipped a beat when she lost her footing. The girl fell to the ground. Shmi yelped when feet trampled on her hands and bashed against her sides. Fear squeezed her body and tears welled but Shmi pushed against the legs and feet, neverminding who she knocked over until a wall was found. She felt something tickle the back of her skull and suddenly it felt as though a gust of wind was brushing against her. It wrapped around her and Shmi noticed limbs bump against an invisible field rather than hit her. Shmi sucked in a shuddering breath and shuffled along, holding tight to this ‘wind’ that had come to her aid. She hoped her parents and sister were alright but –

The wind grumbled like thunder in her ears. Shmi glanced up and saw a stun blaster pointed at her forehead, holding it was a Zygerrian. But the wind didn’t stop. As though a puppet, the wind strung Shmi’s hands to hastily grab the stun blaster and shoved it downwards. Its bullet collided into the Zygerrian’s foot, sending the beast into a fit until he fell back motionless. Her body moving too fast for her brain to catch up, Shmi found herself picking up the stun blaster and running away from the commotion.

Right, left, right and right again, Shmi’s legs ached but she kept on going. Until she heard another scream. She skidded to a halt to find a young boy writhing in a Zygerrian’s grasp. Fearful tears soaked his red cheeks. Shmi’s lungs threatened to stop working if she didn’t continue to run away but the girl thought back to Xanatos. He was a Jedi and despite how dangerous the galaxy could be they always helped the innocent. With the Zygerrian’s back to her and focused entirely on the boy, Shmi gulped and steadied the stun blaster. She was tempted to close her eyes and let fate decide but the wind caressed them to stay open and guided the blaster’s direction.

Shmi pulled the trigger.

Just like last time, the Zygerrian shook and collapsed. Shmi accepted the flowers of pride blossoming inside. They wilted when the boy continued screaming and bolted. “Wait!” Shmi cried out, giving chase only to screech herself when another Zygerrian made his presence known. Worried for the child, Shmi allowed this Zygerrian to spot her.

As Shmi sprinted down a corridor and tried to shoot the beast chasing after her, she figured it was better she was targeted rather than a defenceless boy. The wind guiding her like a mother agreed and motioned her to go left. Shmi did so with vigour.

 

~o0o~

<A _second_ entrance?>

“Yeah,” Anakin replied, tucking the commlink away whilst repeating his master’s mantra. _Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm_ –

<How can we even hold them off?> B3-S2 worried, rolling around in circles. The cogs in its head rotating frantically. <We only have a few crewmembers here.>

Anakin played with the belt on the pillowcase, “I’ll be fine. I’ll make sure these _slavers_ don’t touch anyone. Come on, Obi-Wan, go to sleep. Come on.” The baby mumbled before yawning, snuggling into his pillow bed.

B3-S2 shook its head, <Fine but now, I insist, you must find a place to keep Obi-Wan safe – >

Anakin’s mouth dropped , “What? No way! With the slavers down here, relying on strangers to take care of Obi-Wan is the last thing I’m going to do.”

<So, what!? You’re just going to take him with you on a joyride? Don’t be stupid> B3-S2 reprimanded.

“What the kriff do you even care? You don’t even like children.”

<Don’t insult me! I don’t want them near me but I hardly want to see them killed>

Suddenly, B3-S2 was grabbed by the shoulder and shoved towards Anakin who seethed, “I’m not going to get Obi-Wan killed I can _promise_ you that. I’ll _never_ let that happen again!” Anakin pushed the droid back. “Now go make yourself useful and go tell Qui-Gon about the second entrance. They’ll need to know…

“…Go!”

B3-S2 huffed and left the stupid young man to his own devices, ignoring the sleepy mumurings from the baby. Anakin was right, what did a droid such as itself care for the life of a youngling? B3-S2 repeated this to itself over and over again as it moved along the ship. It doesn’t care, it doesn’t –

“ _Help!_ ”

B3-S2 halted. At the edge of its vision it saw a teenage girl picked up and carried along by a Zygerrian. B3-S2 instantly recognised her as the girl the Jedi brat had been talking to. B3-S2 began to zoom ahead to do something but stopped again, inspecting its empty hands and realising it had nothing equipped to help. Feeling useless, B3-S2 knew it would only cause a minor inconvenience to the muscled Zygerrian if it interfered.

No, this girl needed a Jedi to save her. A worthless droid at odds with its primary function could do nothing but play the messenger. B3-S2 increased its speed to its highest setting, its thoughts only on the Jedi. They would help her.

He would help her. With the baby’s warmth comforting him, Anakin activated the lightsabre and ran towards the slavers, following the directions from escaping civilians. _Stay calm Anakin. Just stay calm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually meant to be even longer but then I figured I would split it up. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy the chapter. Once again thanks for reading and commenting. Always love to see the love!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand everything goes to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realised in that last chapter I essentially showed three characters exhibiting Force sensitivity: Shmi, Kida and Nuro Narrin. I feel like Oprah Winfrey: YOU get Force sensitivity, and YOU get Force sensitivity! P.S. in case anyone hasn’t noticed yet, Tahl is done with everyone and everything. She feels exactly as I feel when my boss’ mum tells me how to make a drink at the café I work at. Except, I’m the drinks maker and she knows nothing about making drinks.  
> Considering I make coffees for my job and being Australian I make coffee far more real than America’s weird ‘coffee’, I realised I am in the perfect position to make a coffee shop AU. Christ, don’t tempt me! I’m really talkative today. Onto the show. 
> 
> WARNING: I suck a poetry but I really wanted to use it for a particular purpose in this chapter. Apologies to all poetry writers. I’m probably going to make you cringe cause I suuuuuuuuuuck

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…_

_A boy left home to find his way._

~o0o~

 

Tahl knew her desire was against the Jedi teachings but she really wanted to punch Nuro Narrin’s smug face. At first the woman ignored the winks and pretend smooches as the battle ensued. She had more pressing matters deflecting lasers with her lightsabre and protecting the crewmembers. Narrin meanwhile was simply ducking back and forth between cover, letting his men do all the work. Tahl swiftly tilted her sabre, bouncing a laser bullet back towards Narrin himself. Admittedly, Tahl took great pleasure in the way his eye’s widened before the large figure of Fray, the black-furred Zygerrian took the hit.

Although the battle didn’t stop, many reacted to the occurrence with raised eyebrows, a flinch, a twitch of whiskers or all of them at once. Narrin brushed invisible dust off his shoulders, no doubt his bruised ego desperately rebuilding its coolness factor. Fray rubbed her injury, the laser having bumped against armour and only grazed skin. Despite the low level of pain, Fray was spitting and growling at the Jedi, verbally expressing her hatred for Tahl. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Fray grabbed a wooden crate and hurled it towards the crewmembers. The crate smashed and shattered pieces scratched at skin. Calrissian smeared blood from a cut on her cheek with her hand, glaring at the large female Zygerrian, as if daring her to try that again.

Narrin patted Fray on the arm and whispered her words of encouragement. This invigorated Fray who grabbed another two crates and threw them. On one hand, it was sacrificing some of their own cover but the slavers had been in tight spaces before. A few first-time crewmembers of the abused transportation ship covered their faces with their arms, preventing them from firing back. Tahl groaned as Fray went to launch another crate. The Jedi held out a palm. The crate froze in the air and was then sent straight into Fray’s chest, pushing her down.

Narrin clasped a hand to his heart and gave Tahl a look of mocked horror. Fray’s growling grew louder as she got to her feet. Calrissian moved to Tahl’s side, measured the scenario with the super strong Zygerrian and muttered, “You just made her angry.”

Tahl rolled her eyes, “She was already angry.”

The last thing Tahl expected was for Fray to ignore the dangers and simply storm directly towards the Jedi, intending to tackle her. Tahl momentarily stared at the oncoming beast but the Force blared at her loudly enough to get the Jedi to move away, narrowing dodging the breakage of multiple ribs. Her ribcage and subsequent bones celebrated. Their party was ruined when Fray’s wayward hand smacked Tahl’s back and the Jedi was shoved forward and to the ground. Her back stung but she was glad she had landed safely behind cover. A boot stepped into the corner of her vision, followed by Calrission exploiting Fray’s diverted attention and kicking the Zygerrian in the face. Fray howled, scurrying away in such a heap that the strength of her muscles bashed Calrissian away like she was a bothersome fly. Calrissian met Tahl on the ground. The two took a look at each other’s beaten states.

“So how’s life going for you?” Tahl asked pleasantly.

Calrissian shrugged as her breath rattled, “Well. Enough.”

“Ah, good,” said Tahl.

The two picked themselves up and winced at injuries. Clarissian’s second-in-command, a nervous green Twi’lek pleaded for them to go back and receive medical aid. Tahl admired the organisation of the crew as she and Calrissian were led away, her lightsabre and four staff protecting them for a wave of bullets. When the two women were far enough, they sat on the ground and leaned against the wall, panting as they attended to their injuries. After some thought and strapping a band around her ankle, Calrissian turned to Tahl and said, “You need to get to your Jedi friends and tell them about the second entrance. We can’t separate the ships with just one entrance disconnected.”

“W-will you be alright though?” Tahl asked breathlessly. “A little tricky out there.”

Calrissian shrugged again, “We’ll handle them. It’ll all be for naught if the ships stay together.”

Suddenly, the Twi’lek second-in-command skidded to them, “Captain! Captain!”

Calrissian prepared for the bad news, “Yes Lanett?”

“The slavers’ leader, Narry Nu –

“ –Nuro Narrin,” Tahl corrected with a smile.

Lanett blushed and stammered, “Yes, him, he left!”

Calrissian curled her hands into fists as Tahl fumed imagining that annoying smug face laughing at her before Master Yoda scurried him away and reminded her of the Jedi Code. Lanett continued, “We weren’t able to stop him escaping through one of the exists. That big one just stormed through and pummelled our men back.”

“ _Kriff_ ,” Calrissian snarled. Then sharply added to the Jedi, “You, get moving. I don’t want to see you near me until this is all over. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tahl replied getting up. She looked to the hallway they had all come from. The single day on board this ship wasn’t enough time to learn the map entirely but simply retracing one’s steps, finding the point of origin and then switching to Qui-Gon’s and Xanato’s direction would get Tahl to where she needed to go. She bid the women in charge of the defence good luck before bolting.

As she did, it felt like Narrin was still laughing at her.

 

~o0o~

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…_

_A boy’s cries were lost to a storm of sand and dust._

_But his mother warmed him with a bond of trust_

_Her tears joined his and they braved against the hurt._

_For even rain can occur in a dry harsh desert._

~o0o~

 

When the owner of the droid shop first obtained B3-S2 she had imagined a generous price upon noticing the rockets attached to its ankles. The standard babysitting droids did not come with that accessory. How quickly dreams fade, the owner had thought upon seeing B3-S2 squirt milk into a toddler’s face and proceeded to throw swear words of multiple languages at the adults. B3-S2 had found great amusement in the shop owner’s naïve optimism. It may be a babysitting droid but that was only because its original creator had a younger brother needing to be cared for.

B3-S2 knew it wasn’t much, couldn’t even save a teenage girl in need, but it had some nifty tricks stored in its system. Unfortunately, none of them were useful for combat. What B3-S2 needed was a lightsabre…

<Aha!> B3-S2 zoomed towards Qui-Gon and Xanatos. It rolled over a staffer’s foot. <’Scuse me>

Qui-Gon noticed the incoming droid. He frowned faintly but allowed a greeting smile. Sweat glistened his forehead and there was a slight tremble in his hands after focusing all his efforts on flinging the slavers away with the Force. Xanatos protected his master with the shared lightsabre and was momentarily dumbfounded at the droid’s appearance. His distraction led to Qui-Gon grabbing the lightsabre’s hilt and moving it, just saving his padawan from a laser. Xanatos felt his face burn from humiliation then glared at the droid for making him look like a fool in front of his beloved master.

B3-S2 was tempted to show the brat how much more of a fool he could really make him look. However it had a job to do and wasn’t willing to test Anakin’s patience. <Got some bad news. There’s a second entrance. Near the civilians>

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, less than pleased. Thus far, the battle at the now established first entrance had not progressed far. It had fallen into a sort of trench warfare where each side stayed protected behind their lines and simply took a shot whenever an opportunity arose. Rarely did anyone dare attempt to cross no-man’s land. Xanatos, dosed up on the arrogance of youth and the yearning to wipe that smirk off Kida’s face, had tried to give it a go. Only for four of the crewmembers to tackle the teenager to the ground. It was a shared belief amongst the crew that their success so far was only due to the Jedi and winning this battle was only possible with the Force users. So Xanatos was thrown back to his master, scowling. Qui-Gon gave his padawan the chance to improve his attitude by acting as his shield with the lightsabre which worked well enough until B3-S2 came rolling in to ruin the moment.

Xanatos meanwhile clung at his stomach, a sickening feeling bubbling inside and creeping up his throat. A sharp coldness, as though his body was caving in on itself, branched out and slithered through his veins until his fingertips felt achingly numb. Dread was an awful emotion, one which the apprentice was always keen to brush away with the Jedi teachings. This time though, it wasn’t going away. Xanatos offered this dread to the Force but the Force ignored his plea as though an unimpressed judge turning its nose up at a downtrodden contestant. Xanatos had no clue as to why the Force would behave in such a manner but his mind wasn’t able to think on it. His brain buzzed as it came back to the same thought over and over again. The second entrance was near the civilians.

Shmi.

As one can imagine, the following information dump from the droid did not improve things. <I need your help> B3-S2 continued. <I saw a girl, that girl _you_ were talking to, snatched by a slaver and – >

“ –Master, we have to save her!” Xanatos’ voice cracked as he grabbed Qui-Gon’s sleeve.

Qui-Gon paused, “What girl?”

“Doesn’t _matter!_ ” Xanatos snapped. The master’s concern grew as his padawan’s breathing increased. “We need to save her! She can’t defend herself.” At that, Xanatos turned to run off. He was hoisted back by a strong arm.

“Wait, Xanatos!” Qui-Gon said hurriedly. He flashed the droid an exasperated expression before saying, “I understand you want to help this girl but _please listen to me_ – ”

“ – _No_! We got to go –!”

“ – Go and leave this entrance unattended?”

Xanatos groaned loudly, pulling at his padawan braid in frustration, and added, “Unattended? Look around you, there are plenty of people here!”

“There aren’t enough to defend this entrance properly and you know this Xanatos,” Qui-Gon retorted. He struggled to retain calmness with his padawan’s mounting anxiety. “If we lose this entrance than the slavers will have complete control and we _will lose people_!”

Qui-Gon’s grip on Xanatos’ wrist remained firm. The wrist was quivering and blood drew from the teenager’s nails digging into skin. Unable to match his master’s strength, Xanatos was forced to stew over his exploding emotions. Nausea clogged his senses and a prickly feeling tickled the back of his mouth. Shaky uneven breaths struggled through the boy’s panicking lungs. Qui-Gon’s other hand carefully lay on Xanatos’ and the master spoke again, cautiously as though approaching a wild frightened animal, “Padawan, listen, please. A surprise _second_ entrance? They’re playing us. I don’t know what else they have planned but we cannot let them trick us again. We walk away from this entrance then who knows what they’ll do.”

“B-but…but…”

The battle around them reintroduced itself when a series of lasers rained upon the crewmembers. The master used the Force to interrupt their decent and the staff collectively fired back at the slavers. Qui-Gon turned back to Xanatos and said quietly, “Look, these people are relying on us. We have a duty here. Luke will take care of the second entrance. Once both of us have handled the entrances we can separate the ships.”

Xanatos stammered over a few failed words. He managed to stumble out, “And how are we supposed to know when Luke fixes it, if he can even do it?! The slavers destroyed our commlinks.”

“Exactly, they destroyed our commlinks for a reason,” Qui-Gon answered, the fog clearing. He begrudgingly wished their communication devices hadn’t been cracked into two however no use crying over spilled blue milk. “They’re toying with us. Trying to get us to panic. We must not let them.”

To both their surprise, B3-S2’s noodle warm waved in-between their stricken faces. <My commlink remains intact if you are in need of it>

Qui-Gon wasn’t able to stop a sigh of relief escaping him. He patted his padawan’s hand, “See? We have a way of contacting Luke and Tahl. We can separate the ships and your friend won’t be on it. B3, contact Luke will you?”

As the droid took out its commlink and Xanatos continue to mutilate his hands, Qui-Gon reassured the few crewmembers noticing their absence. They’ll come back. Everything is fine. The Zygerrians haven’t done anything drastic yet so don’t fret about the future. Focus on the here and now. It then occurred to Qui-Gon that it shouldn’t take so long to contact someone.

“What’s going on?”

B3-S2 mumbled and tapped the commlink against its chest, <An –uh _Luke_ isn’t picking up>

If the droid thought it had swept its mistake under the rug then it had another thing coming, Qui-Gon briefly thought. Then touched his leg which was badly bruised after that Zygerrian beat him to steal his commlink. “Is he not picking up or are you unable to contact him at all?"

<…Uh…>

Xanatos released another irritated huff, “Force, it’s obvious! They’ve destroyed his commlink too!”

Latching to the issue like a fish to a hook Qui-Gon said, “Now see? They’re trying to disorganise and confuse us. We can’t …” w _e can’t communicate to change plans when something new comes along._ Pins and needles fuzzed across the Jedi Master’s body. He unconsciously held his apprentice’s wrist tighter, “We simply cannot leave our post. They want us in disarray. Luke will complete his task just as we will.”

Xanatos shook his head, “You don’t _know_ that. Just – _no!_ I don’t trust Luke. You’re asking too much from me to trust a total stranger who _stole a baby!_ I mean, he fell off his speeder escaping the Temple. Really, what makes you think we can rely on him?!” At no point in Xanatos’ young life of sixteen years did he recall ever feeling this ill, with him worrying over Shmi and watching the look of disappointment slowly but surely etching its way his master’s face. “W-what if we separate those ships but Shmi is on it anyway? We’ll have just doomed her to a life of slavery! I can’t allow that!”

Qui-Gon flinched. _Shmi._ That name… what had the Force been trying to tell him?

The Force.

Caressing Xanatos’ padawan braid, the symbol of their bond, Qui-Gon made one last request, “What does the Force tell you?”

B3-S2 watched with a mixture of curiosity and growing impatience as the teenager gave his master’s request some consideration. Xanatos’ eyes darted between Qui-Gon and the droid feeling like the inadequate padawan everyone at the Temple claimed he to be. Scratching at the back of mind like a cat asking to be let in was the Force. Doing as he was told, Xanatos closed his eyes and opened the door allowing the Force to flow in and take the shape of dark cave tunnels. Xanatos would always remember the first time he entered this strange environment back in the crèche. All his fellow classmates awed at the personalised environment their connection to the Force created. From canyons to rainforests, everyone had beautiful environments that beckoned the children to learn and steep themselves into the Force’s teachings. But Xanatos only encountered a pitch black cave where water dripped from the ceiling, imitating a ticking clock as though there was time he was running out of. The light only came from Xanatos’ very being but it was overwhelmed by the encasing darkness of the cave. Xanatos had retreated from the cave and back into the crèche, pretending that he had discovered a jungle instead. Master Yoda didn’t believe a word but said nothing. Undoubtedly Qui-Gon, with his fluency in the Force, knew too but never pressured his padawan to mention it. However this only trod on Xanatos’ metaphorical toes, of course the man with a tropical beach probably thought he had nothing to worry about.

The padawan shivered when he entered the cave. He stretched out his hands, desperate to find a wall. The ground was rough and stubbed against his boots. When skin found the wall, it recoiled at its cold rough surface. Desperate for answers and knowing Master Qui-Gon wasn’t going to let him do anything until the Force gave its blessing , Xanatos returned to the cold wall and moved along through the darkness. It didn’t take long to find his bond to Qui-Gon. A large and beautiful crystal sat in the middle of a circular room. Pale green and glittering. Its coloured light bloomed from the crystal and reached towards the teenager, wrapping around him like a hug. It brought a smile to Xanatos but it died when he noticed an annex where a small purple crystal lay. Xanatos had no clue why he had a connection with Tahl when he first found it but now reckoned it was simply there to monitor the green crystal’s state, not to actually bond with the teenager. Further along, Xanatos could just see two more small crystals. One a dark shade of green that reminded the boy of a swamp and another an intense red. Again, Xanatos knew them: Master Yoda and Master Dooku, connected only through flimsy linage. When he was younger Xanatos had tried to approach but the crystals were protruding from the tall ceiling and Xanatos could not reach. Even as he aged and grew taller, the ceiling only went higher.

There was nothing else. No other crystals to light the surrounding darkness. Although Xanatos adored the crystal that was his master, it could not be removed from the ground and brought along with the teenager like a lamp. It had to stay. So, with the Force’s prompting, Xanatos left it behind. Fear wrung his heart again as the darkness covered everything. It brought about thoughts of doubt and anxiety, but the loudest was a bitter muttering that the Force would only do what Qui-Gon wanted and was no help whatsoever. Which only made Xanatos feel worse. The teenager barely understood himself but there was something about Shmi that mattered. Thinking back to the crystals and the empty cave, Xanatos realised with an ache in his soul that, as far as he was concerned, she was the only one to have bothered being a friend.

Suddenly, Xanatos’ foot caught a rock and the boy fell. His body hit the floor harshly. Xanatos stayed still, considering letting his body go limp back in real time and space so his mind could just give up and rot here. Or maybe when this was all over, Xanatos could complete his research, locate his origin planet and family and begin the process of creating new crystals. Then his cave could finally light up with crystals of many shapes and colours. Maybe Qui-Gon’s crystal would share its space with the crystal that was Xanatos’ blood father.

Biting his limp, Xanatos heaved himself up to go back to his master.

Only to meet a pale blue crystal sitting in front of him. It wasn’t as large of Qui-Gon’s but bigger than any of the others. It shone like a star and its light stretched out, chasing away the cave’s darkness and lighting up the small room. Xanatos breathed heavily as he reached out and touched it. Shmi Skywalker’s small Force presence greeted him with open arms. Xanatos soaked in the girl’s presence and felt the Force swirling around both of them with eagerness, finally telling the padawan its message.

_Go to her._

Xanatos opened his eyes and met his master once again. Time had barely passed.

“I need to go,” Xanatos proclaimed.

“What?” stumbled out of Qui-Gon. The man clearly hadn’t expected this answer yet when he reached out to the Force, it only hummed in agreement. “I… no, you…”

Xanatos scowled, “What do you ‘what’? The Force told me to go. I should go.”

“B-but…” the master couldn’t remember the last time he was this confused with the will of the Force. However his padawan looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. “Y-your my padawan,” Qui-Gon said, uncertainty weighing his worlds. “And I’m your master. You’re supposed to stay by my side, until you…”

With the inevitability of Xanatos completing his training hitting Qui-Gon far sooner than he expected, the master felt sadness sink his heart. He tried but failed to hold back a wince when Xanatos said softly yet determinedly, “I can’t stay with you forever. Let me go.”

A few seconds ticked by.

Then a small explosion rocked the occupants. B3-S2 rolled back into a wall and a series of high pitch bleeps emitted. Qui-Gon and Xanatos watched as a few of their crewmembers faltered from the impact, some bleeding and bruising. From the looks of it, a few Zygerrians had tipped into impatience. Across the no-man’s field, the female Zyerrian, Kida, had her lip curling at the stupidity of some of fellow slavers. Her ferocity only spurred Xanatos on. He had wasted enough time here. He went to move on, away from the battlefield, when Qui-Gon stopped him with a grip on the shoulder. Xanatos’ anger flared. “What now?!”

“ _Please_ , I need you here –”

“ –Shmi needs me more –”

“ –But the Zygerrians are trying to separate –”

“ –I did what you said and the Force wants me –”

“ –Please, Xanatos –”

“ –Oh for the love of – ”Xanatos shoved the lightsabre into his master’s chest roughly. “Take it then! I don’t need it. You’re a Jedi Master. You can defend this place just fine without me!”

The lightsabre slackened in Qui-Gon’s hands, “ _No_ , padawan, this is too dangerous. I can’t let you –”

“ –can’t let me do what?” Xanatos snarled. “Don’t you trust me enough to do this on my own? Am I that terrible of a Jedi that I can’t rescue someone without you holding my hand?” The teenager’s chest shuddered as another feeling, just as if not worse than dread, was added to the mix: betrayal. The master and padawan were unable to produce any more words but the silent cry from Xanatos was heard regardless, _I thought I was good enough for you._

“Go then.”

Xanatos swallowed thickly, giving his master one last glance, before racing off. Qui-Gon watched his padawan leave, feeling like rope in a tug-a-war game. One side pleaded to keep his dear padawan by his side a little longer, unable to accept that at some point he would no longer be called ‘master.’ The other side won in the end, horrified that Qui-Gon had reduced himself to just another Jedi in the Temple diminishing Xanatos’ worth. No, he wouldn’t allow that. And neither would the Force. Still feeling sick, Qui-Gon turned back to the battlefield now equipped with his lightsabre. The crewmembers had noticed the missing padawan, but Qui-Gon casted them a reassuring and confident smile. He beckoned the staff closer and they got chatting. Time to hit back.

Behind them, B3-S2 rejected the idea of going after Xanatos. A droid without a weapon would just get in the way. B3-S2 held out its hands and the tips of its fingers clipped off like caps. Underneath were USB chips. A droid with hacking abilities such as itself however, well, that’s a little different.

 

~o0o~

 

Qui-Gon Jinn may have the reputation as a diplomatically sound Jedi however anyone who doubted his sabre ability was a fool. And anyone who thought the tales of the combined efforts of Jinn and Uvain were exaggerated were quickly slapped with reality. All the Zygerrians stationed at the first entrance learnt both these lessons. Kida hissed under her breath as the ship’s crew under the leadership of a Jedi, with no padawan to focus on protecting, all but stormed through, shielded by the fast and fluid moments of the Jedi’s green lightsabre.

Not long after, another human woman came shooting through with her own lightsabre activated. With a dramatic twirl in the air, the woman struck a slaver with her boot then swivelled as though ice skating to the other Jedi’s side. Both seemed to acknowledge each other with a flicker in the Force, though Kida only just felt it with her self-taught abilities. Kida felt embarrassment cook her cheeks as her men were pushed further and further back towards the docking tube. She bitterly wondered how her father’s men had managed to screw up so badly as to lose track of the female Jedi. The only comfort Kida could take was confirmation that the second entrance had been connected, her father had almost skipped away from the battle field to make way for the civilians, and that numerous commlinks of those by the second entrance had been destroyed.

It didn’t matter if the Jedi secured this entrance, Kida reasoned, refusing to see it as a personal failing. That would only make her father’s infuriating second-in-command, Tai-Ro, worse with his uppity attitude. “Miss!” one of the slavers croaked, his voice clogged with laser fumes. “We can’t hold on like this. The Jedi aren’t holding back.”

Another Zygerrian popped in, “Where’s Tai-Ro? He didn’t leave you in charge did he?”

Kida’s ears twitched, “My father had business elsewhere. Tai-Ro is handling the Captain in his stead.”

“…So he did leave you in charge.”

“ _Enough_ ,” Kida’s claws struck at the slaver, cutting close to his eyes. The surrounding men trembled. “You can blame Tai-Ro for this. He shouldn’t have allowed this Jedi to get here.”

“Little late for that,” one of the men grumbled.

Before Kida would swipe at him the Jedi and their allies bombarded through their defences and came flooding in. The Zygerrians scattered. Kida had no problem shoving away anyone who thought they could just bump into her. In the jumbled mess of running bodies Kida almost saw her angry father’s face. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the door to the docking tube slide open. Her men were retreating back to their ship caught up in their distressed episode. “No, no, no, no, _no,_ ” Kida muttered.

Some of her men were so annoyingly stupid. Kida built up her Force energy and sent it forth, knocking back crewmembers. It barely budged the Jedi who only looked eager to confront the challenge. Kida wasn’t interested. She had salvaged enough time to race back through the docking tube, shutting the door and getting into her father’s ship. Now if her men had realised that opening the door to go home was all well in good as long as you closed it in on your way in, then maybe she wouldn’t look down upon them so harshly. But they hadn’t.

Kida fumed at her fellow slavers. She demanded they hoist their pants up and get to the second docking tube and start snatching some civilians. They got rolling. Kida massaged her temples and considered informing her father what happened. She thought back to his last furious spat and then debated whether she should tell Tai-Ro instead. Kida’s thoughts were interrupted when the Force rang with a warning.

Kida jumped back and gasped when a lightsabre sliced through the door. It had cut straight through, red melting scars of the metal steaming, as the lightsabre began to move downwards. Kida chastised herself for not thinking things through and prepared for whoever came crashing in.  

 

~o0o~

 

The crewmembers yelled in triumph as they beat up the Zygerrians left behind and finally gained control of the first entrance. Shoulders and backs were clapped and grins were shared. Tahl and Qui-Gon revelled in their continuous success as a team for only a brief period however. They positioned their lightsabres and began cutting through the door to the docking tube. The heat from the lightsabres pulsed against the Jedi’s hands. Beside them, Tahl and Qui-Gon noticed B3-S2 attaching itself to a control panel beside the door.

“What are you doing?” Tahl asked, suspicious.

<Downloading data,> the droid replied nonchalantly. <Once I have what I need here and from the Zygerrian ship, I will have 87% of the data required to hack into both ships and separate them.>

Both Jedi were unable to respond for a few seconds.

Their lightsabres met and the circle was complete. The sliced door fell down with a thud, the smell of burnt metal stinking up the room. Some of the crewmembers scrunched up their noses. Both Tahl and Qui-Gon had experienced this smell enough to no longer find its disturbing but it did snap them out of their stupor.

Qui-Gon asked first, “How does a nanny droid –?”

< –My maker was a funny one,> B3-S2 replied wistfully. <Spent more time trying to uncover government conspiracies at university rather than studying. Shame too, she was a genius at engineering>

Tahl glared at the shut door to the Zygerrian ship at the end of the large docking tube. It looked thicker though it would still be no match for a lightsabre. Tahl turned back to the droid, “87%? What about the rest?”

B3-S2 rolled past the Jedi and down the tube. Qui-Gon and Tahl followed after it, trusting the crewmembers to set up defence and be on the look-out for any other slavers. Their footsteps echoed down the tube. At the end, B3-S2 patted at the wall before finding another control panel hidden underneath a tile, <They have another on the outside in case of an emergency,> the droid explained. Then at Tahl’s raised eyebrows it added, <The rest comes from our ship. Hidden behind firewalls that I couldn’t get passed. Thank you Captain> it grumbled.

“When did you do this?” Qui-Gon scratched at his short beard.

<Yesterday. I went exploring. I enjoyed myself immensely if you must know>

Qui-Gon felt an inkling of hope blooming in his chest, “Alright. We can contact Calrissian and she can help you get the data you need.”

“What makes you think you can access the Zygerrians’?” Tahl jumped in.

<Maker was a Twi’lek,> B3-S2 said, hitting the control panel when a spark spat at its hands. It inserted the chip with accompanying beeps. <I don’t believe there is one Twi’lek in the galaxy who hasn’t lost a family member to slavery. She got herself and her brother out and wasn’t going to be captured again>

Tahl frowned, “Where is she now?”

<… _Oh_. Around > B3-S2 fiddled with the control panel, ignoring the Jedi. Qui-Gon and Tahl kept quiet and were surprised when the droid finished so quickly. B3-S2 dislodged a chip from its finger and held it out. Qui-Gon opened his palm and the chip was dropped into it. <Insert that into the controls at the bridge. Once you have the ship, well I’m sure you’ll know what to do next>

Qui-Gon nodded. He brushed stray strands of hair away from his eyes and said to Tahl, “I’ll go to the Captain. We’ll sort this.”

“Good, I’ll stay here and say hello to our Zygerrian friend. She might be some help to us,” Tahl said and patted the droid on the head. B3-S2 froze, unsure what to think. Then her features sharpened as she said to Qui-Gon, “When this is done, you can have the pleasure of telling me where Xanatos went.”

Qui-Gon’s face dropped.

“Go.”

Eager to avoid an argument, Qui-Gon left. The light-hearted fun from their team-up evaporated. B3-S2 too bid farewell and scurried off. Tahl sighed long and loudly, letting the Force loosen her muscles. Back in the mountain that was Tahl the snow that was the Force refroze. Tahl positioned her lightsabre and struck the door. She had to apply more pressure but it still cut right on through.

The Force rang when Tahl walked in. She dodged a laser bullet. Tahl rolled her eyes at the Zygerrian whose fur had puffed to make the young lady look larger. However after experiencing the fists of the massive figure that was Fray, Tahl only saw a frightened and defensive kitten. Tahl briefly pitied the poor thing because striking. Unlike Qui-Gon, Tahl was long and lean and far more adept at speed, rivalling the skills of Kida. The two skidded and flipped around each other like writhing snakes. That is until Kida, exhaustion straining her body, attempted to twist around the female Jedi as a means of escape. Tahl caught this and responded by bringing up her leg and kicking the back of the Zygerrian’s head. For Kida, it felt as though an explosion had gone off in her skulls. She stumbled and then felt her hand grabbed. She was swung over the tall Jedi and slammed to the ground.

Tahl breathed heavily, relying on the Force to maintain stamina. The Zygerrian, although clever enough with her own Force abilities, had not mastered the same skill. Being fair on the young thing, Tahl considered that she and her peers were senior padawans when their masters were satisfied. Stretching a knot out of her shoulders, Tahl knelt to the groaning Zygerrian. Kida could hear her breathing roaring in her ears as the corners of her vision darkened. She sent a plea through the Force to her father. It hit a mental wall. Kida only had a moment to feel desperation before the Jedi waved a hand in front of her face and whispered, “ _Sleep_.”

 

~o0o~

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…_

_A boy witnessed the wrath of a hurricane._

_He trembled as though back in slavery’s chains_

_But when his mentor’s presence warmed old pains._

_He felt like a newly freed child all over again._

~o0o~

 

All things considered, these Zygerrian slavers should be thanking the snoozing baby strapped to Anakin’s chest for their preserved lives. Especially after one had managed to snatch his commlink and destroy it, the karking bantha turd.

Repeating Obi-Wan’s mantra in his head – _stay calm, just stay calm padawn, stay calm_ –Anakin was following his master’s teachings closely. Recalling lessons from old memories as he and his master studied the art of the lightsabre, Anakin used the brat’s sabre to intimidate and cut at fur and the first layer of skin. Cutting down their endurance until a final blow from a fist or foot made them lose their consciousness was a working strategy so far. Especially since the hulking masses containing what must be brains the size of peanuts thought themselves worthy to take on what they perceived to be a Jedi.

Anakin crashed the end of the lightsabre onto a slaver’s head, knocking the beast down. The vile stench wafting from their mouth disgusted Anakin and the greedy hunger that drove their actions teased through their mocking grins. It didn’t take long for their faces to morph into ones of distress and panic. Caught in the moment, Anakin swung the lightsabre towards another furious Zygerrian. Obi-Wan’s voice called him. Anakin’s mind fell out of rhythm and he changed his tactic to avoid stabbing the slaver. It felt achingly easy to fall back into the mindless attacks of Darth Vader but each and every time, a stronger part that was Anakin returned to take control again. A part Luke had found and encouraged back from the darkness, and a part that Obi-Wan was currently maintaining.

The Emperor had once told Vader that while the Sith may allow attachments unlike the Jedi, the Sith were powerful enough to live without them. The Jedi, despite their rejection of attachments, depended on them due to their weakness and suffered for this clash. While the Sith relished in their strength and never needed the strength of others, only themselves. After having lost _everything_ Vader had been all too keen to pretend he thrived on isolation. That all ended when Luke, struggling against the Emperor in a fit of lightning, called out to his father.

For all the Emperor’s power he had been defeated by an attachment.

Just like the Jedi.

Anakin rounded a corner and found a hallway empty save for the individual standing at the other end. Another Zygerrian except the armour it wore was maroon in colour rather than the standard black and brown. He was casually leaning against the wall, the ship’s lights glinting on the piercings lining curled cat ears. The Force simmered around the Zygerrian as though he was a sun and the heat brought back images of Mustafar, putting Anakin immediately on edge. Anakin held the lightsabre up in a defensive position and glared at the Zygerrian.

Nuro Narrin wasn’t particularly impressed.

He had spotted the unconscious bodies strewn across the floor. An individual unwilling to kill wasn’t something to be frightened over. The Jedi was worthless but…

“Ain’t that a little cutie,” Narrin said. Anakin recoiled at the slime almost dripping from the slavers’ tone. “You don’t see many redheads about the galaxy.”

Eyes widening, Anakin glanced down at Obi-Wan who was lost in blissful sleep. The baby’s orange hair glowed like a warm summer’s day on Naboo. Looking at Narrin’s intrigued expression reminded Anakin of the numerous slavers who had leered at him and his mother, calculating worth and value just from sight alone.

“Force sensitive too,” Narrin continued eagerly. “I’d get paid plenty for him. Powerful and pretty.”

A flash of fury swept through Anakin again before it dissipated at the memory of his master. Anakin held the baby closer, tucking the youngling’s head in his neck, all whilst keeping himself controlled. An attachment killed the Jedi but an attachment ended the Emperor’s reign too, and now, Anakin was determined, his attachment to Obi-Wan and his mother would stop these slavers.

“Keep away from him” Anakin demanded.

Narrin snorted and shook his head at the humorous display. He grinned at Anakin, “Nah, handing him over would be the safer option for you. Otherwise I’ll get angry. And you don’t want to see me angry.”

A chill crept along Anakin’s body before the young man answered stiffly, “Try me.” His grip on the lightsabre tightened and the Force around him quivered. “I’ve been angry for _years_.”

Narrin stared at the young man, pondering briefly, before ferocity snapped. He shot forward. Anakin felt the naïve Force signature of the baby softly keeping Vader away as he prepared for the attack. He saw the Zygerrian twist his body in a move Anakin had witnessed before in the Clone Wars. He smirked, knowing exactly how to react. When Narrin was close enough, Anakin leapt back and begun to move his lightsabre. Only for Narrin to pull an object from a pocket and activate it. Anakin didn’t even have the chance to realise he had been tricked when a brilliant flash of light pierced his vision.

Blinded, Anakin only had the Force’s muffled warning before his face was smacked hard. Anakin focused all his Force energy on protecting the baby as he hit the ground. Immediately, he checked to feel the state of young Obi-Wan, who had been so rudely awoken. His sight still damaged, Anakin only saw blotches of green and purple dance across the baby’s face but his ears were still intact and heard Obi-Wan whimpering. He also heard the slaver chatting away on a commlink, barking orders. Anakin rubbed his eyes and tried to scramble back. Narrin saw this and attempted to launch another assault, a dangerous look in his cat eyes, and Anakin was _so_ _kriffing tempted_ to bring back Vader –

_NO!_

A Force-push released from Anakin and shoved the Zygerrian away. Narrin grunted as he slid to the floor. That had not particularly pleased him. Narrin’s tail moved back and forth like a pendulum, bothered with the strength of this boy’s Force powers. The young man was pathetic, a mess of unstable emotions and unfulfilled dreams, but that didn’t tamper his powers. Shame too, because Narrin couldn’t deny how keenly he wanted that baby now. Narrin eyed the orange hair of the baby strapped to the young man and felt giddy at the possible credits rewarded for snagging such a prize. Already he had come across plenty of wayward children wandering the ships’ hallways lost and confused, who were then collected and carried away. Not a bad run so far. He could see the credits already.

But this redhead Force sensitive baby… Narrin heard hurried footsteps coming their way and a sneer wormed its way onto his face. He left the hallway to let his men swarm the area and do their job. If this so-called Jedi wasn’t going to give up the baby then there was only one thing left to do; Narrin toyed with the device that had projected a flash of light: distract him.

 

~o0o~

_Calm down, calm down, calm down, please padawan, stay calm_

_I can’t, I can’t, I can’t_

_Please_

_They’re slavers! They don’t deserve anything!_

~o0o~

Physically, Shmi may not be the strongest human being but she wasn’t about to be dragged away quietly. Squirming in the arms of a Zygerrian, Shmi kicked wildly and screamed loudly. She tried to slam her head back and break the slaver’s chin but she wasn’t tall enough to reach. All he did in return was squeeze harder and threaten to break her ribs. Shmi coughed at the pressure seizing up in her throat and pleaded for help. The gush of air that had protected her from before was no match for the brutal strength of this feline beast. Shmi tried scratching and pinching the slavers’ arms only for him to scratch back, dragging his claws down Shmi’s arms till she cried out in pain. She heaved as dizziness sloshed around in her skull and blood trickled. A life of agriculture had been relatively peaceful and Shmi was not prepared. She was focused entirely on her racing panic. The walls around her felt like they were creeping closer, the air too hot with the Zygerrian exhaling heavily on her neck. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach made her feel like she was shrinking.

She needed out. She needed out. _She needed out!_

Shmi snapped out of her panic attack when the Zygerrian suddenly released her. Her knees scrapped painfully when she landed unexpectedly. Behind her she heard the slaver grunt and moan before his mass was thrown away. Shmi stared in a blind state of confusion before flinching when a hand was offered to her. At the end was Xanatos. In a flurry of movement, Shmi grabbed the hand and launched herself up, wrapping her arms around the teenage boy and holding him close, crying out his name in relief.

“Your arm! Are you okay –?”

“ –Yes, _yes,_ I-I’m okay,” Shmi replied wetly, holding her friend close. “Thank you, _thank you_.”

She felt Xanatos return the hug and her panic melted away. Their reunion was interrupted when the slaver grunted again. Xanatos and Shmi unfolded from each other but stayed close. The slaver was vocal but barely moving. Shmi turned back and noticed immediately that the teenager was without a lightsabre to protect himself but his knuckles were bruised and bleeding. Xanatos caught her wandering eye and then noticed the laser strapped to the Zygerrian’s belt. He pointed to it and whispered to Shmi, “Stay here. I’ll end this.”

Shmi frowned, “E-end this? What do you mean?”

Xanatos furrowed his brows too, “W-what do I…? I mean, well, I-I need to...”

“ –to what? You mean end his life? You mean kill him,” Shmi asked, glancing between her friend and the slaver to ensure both stayed put.

“Well I…” Xanatos murmured uncomfortably. He hunched his shoulders and bit his lip. “What else am I meant to do? They’re _slavers_ , they’re trying to kidnap people and sell them.”

Shmi shuddered at the life she had nearly been forced into. Yet, “I’m sorry Xanatos. I-I don’t feel right letting you do this. Just, I don’t know, knock him unconsciousness or something. Please. He’ll go to jail and that’s it.”

“B-but I…I don’t …I’m not sure what I’m meant to…do…” Xanatos hated the way his tongue completely failed on him.

Shmi took his hand and squeezed it. “Please, don’t do this to yourself. Knock him down. And we’ll get away from here. _Please_.”

Xanatos was silent for a few seconds before squeezing her hand back and nodding. Shmi didn’t miss the way Xanatos looked at her in surprise when she didn’t follow him. As far as Shmi was concerned, she didn’t need to. She trusted him to do the right thing. Xanatos stole the laser, switched it to its stun mode. He only needed to shoot once. With the laser remaining in his grip, Xanatos returned to Shmi’s side. Just as the girl was about to ask where to, Xanatos ripped a thin strip of cloth from the bottom of his robe and tied it around Shmi’s bleeding arm. He muttered something about being unskilled in the art of healing and this was the best he could do.

When he was done, Xanatos said determinedly, “Let’s go.”

Shmi smiled, “Yeah.”

The pair scurried along the corridors. Xanatos brought Shmi up to speed with the current events and both figured that the safest place would be the cabin rooms monitored by Luke. Xanatos wasn’t especially jumping for joy but also wasn’t willing to risk Shmi’s safety. Nowhere else on the ship was even remotely protected at the same degree as those cabins. Shmi was more knowledgeable of the civilian side of the ship and directed the way. When they entered another area they slowed their pace to move around unconsciousness bodies. Up ahead the two heard voices, one Xanatos recognised as Luke’s.

“There, we can –” Xanatos began to say when Luke staggered into their sight.

Goosebumps peppered Xanatos’ skin. He instinctively stepped back, holding an arm out in front of Shmi who frowned at the newcomer. Luke was breathing erratically, leaning against the wall as though he might fall without its support. Sweat dripped from his jaw and his curly hair resembled a dirty mop. The Force throbbed around him as though a shield trying to hold down something large and strong. Xanatos was so concentrated on Luke’s state that he started when Shmi took his hand again. Looking at her confused expression and feeling her worry carried through the Force, Xanatos decided he didn’t want to even be near Luke.

“We got to go,” he muttered quietly to her. He started to turn back when –

“Stop!”

Xanatos flinched again. His face turned to stone as he looked back to Luke. It was then Xanatos noticed a familiar youngling strapped to Luke’s chest. “You got to be kidding me,” the padawan mumbled painfully. He swallowed thickly and said carefully, “We…we’re just trying to get to the cabins.”

Luke only stared.

Xanatos tried again, “Would you _mind_ …letting us? We’ll take Obi-Wan too. Then we can –”

“–No,” Luke cut in harshly. He pushed himself off the wall and straightened. He pointed to Shmi and said roughly, “Hand her over. Now.”

Shmi faltered at the man’s request. Xanatos kept hold of her hand as he glared at Luke, “What? No. You need to –”

“ –You don’t tell me to do anything _brat_ –”

“ –Stop interrupting me!” Xanatos barked. “Your job is to protect the civilians here. So go help them!”

Luke rolled his eyes and Xanatos shivered at the gold swimming amongst the blue eyes like prowling sharks. “Run back to your master then, little padawan. Weren’t you meant to take the first entrance?”

Guilt gnawed Xanatos’ insides but he answered firmly, “My master has got that covered. I needed to save Shmi. So let us _through_!”

Luke snapped, “ _You can’t protect her! Only I can –!_ ”

“ –Stop!” Shmi burst in. She shivered and felt akin to a small rabbit. “Let us go!” When she saw the man open his mouth, she pleaded, “ _No,_ I don’t want to go with you! Let Xanatos and I go!”

Luke froze.

Anakin froze.

Anakin ignored the baby moving slightly in the pillowcase. He ignored the incoming danger on the horizon. All he saw was Padmé and Obi-Wan, with the volcanos and flames of Mustafar burning the landscape behind them. Why did neither of them understand? All he ever wanted to do was protect those he loved. It infuriated him that Obi-Wan would betray him, so much for being his so-called brother, but at the same time, what else did he expect? Obi-Wan was the _perfect_ Jedi, of course sticking to the Code mattered more to him than following his best friend.

But Padmé, his beloved Padmé …how dare Padmé….how could _she_ betray him?! Who did she –

“Who do you think you are to betray me?!” Anakin snarled. The girl that was to become his mother shrivelled. But all he saw was the woman he loved, the woman who carried his child –his _children_ , Luke, Leia, the children he _never_ got to be with –step away from him and go instead to someone else. How _dare_ she. How _dare_ both of them! Anakin felt tears string his eyes, and he snapped, “Why can’t you just let me save you –!?”

Xanatos held up the laser gun.

And a swarm of Zygerrian slavers crashed into the corridor.

 

~o0o~

 

With Luke momentarily distracted by the slavers at his end, Xanatos and Shmi bolted away. Neither checked to see what was behind them as the pair ran as far away as possible from the slavers and especially from Luke. However Shmi couldn’t erase those terrifying blue and golden eyes from her mind. Her voice came out haggard when she asked, “W-what is _wrong_ with him?”

They ran into another hallway as Xanatos snorted harshly, “Got me.” He thought back to the baby still in Luke’s possession and skidded to a halt. Shmi felt a tug on her arm and stopped quickly, turning to Xanatos who said anxiously, “Kriff, he’s going to get that baby killed.” Xanatos pulled at his short black hair and groaned at the mess they were in.

Shmi nervously felt for the poor baby. “We should go back and get him,” she offered.

Xanatos blinked at her. Then replied, “And what? Get captured? Didn’t you see, there were dozens! They’re probably on their way here. We need to go.”

“But the baby –!”

“ –I _know_! I don’t like it either but we can’t risk it.” Xanatos felt the Force build again. It nudged at the padawan, prompting him to move.

Shmi buried her head in her hands and considered screaming again in frustration. Instead she placed her hand on the cloth wrapped around her injury. It still stung. Her accompanying gush of wind shook around her as she argued, “There _has_ to be a way we can save him! You’re a Jedi! The Jedi are meant to protect people!”

“We can’t protect everyone!” Xanatos countered. “All we can do is –”

Neither expected to be blasted with a stun laser.

Shmi was lost to oblivion. While Xanatos only just held onto a pinch of consciousness. His body was either numb or pricked with the sizzling of electricity. It felt like someone stabbing him with sharp nails. Someone must have been using his brain for a drum because it ached terribly. His eyelids were so heavy and all energy and adrenaline had dried right up. Xanatos could do nothing as the Zygerrians picked Shmi and himself up, hoisting both over bulking shoulders. At the far end of the corridor, Xanatos only just spotted a droid roll in.

B3-S2.

Without a second thought, Xanatos centres all his remaining energy on lifting his arm and reaching out for the droid. B3-S2 headed towards them. But Xanatos’ moment of relief was dashed away when a grenade was tossed towards the droid. It exploded.

At that, Xanatos finally dropped.

 

~o0o~

 

These Zygerrians really _REALLY_ should be grateful to young Obi-Wan. Their lives are worthless and a plague on the whole galaxy, with their disgusting greed destroying people and families, they don’t deserve anything, not even their lives. But the Force caressed the young angry man and guided his actions. Softened by the innocence of a baby and the wisdom of an old master, the Force shooed Vader away and shushed Anakin soothingly. Anakin didn’t even pay attention to his own actions as he argued back and forth with the Force. So when the young man returned to his senses, Obi-Wan’s call for calmness echoing in his mind, he sighed with relief at the only unconsciousness Zygerrians.

He did notice that many were missing limbs or had their features burnt by the lightsabre but…

…Obi-Wan flopped around in the pillowcase. Anakin quashed the memory of the traitor Kenobi from Mustafar and hugged the baby close. This one hadn’t betrayed him yet. He never would either. Obi-Wan thumped his small fists against Anakin’s collarbone and cooed for attention. Wiping tear tracks from the baby’s cheeks, Anakin realised he had also missed the baby’s crying session during his mental argument with the Force. Hoisting the baby up, Anakin held Obi-Wan close enough that their noses were almost touching.

Anakin sniffled and glumly thought of Shmi’s rejection, of Xanatos’ interference, of Padmé’s rejection and the later Obi-Wan’s interference. Obi-Wan’s tiny hands patted at Anakin’s face and the warmth from a youngling’s soft skin helped to chase the darkness further away. A sudden compulsion had Anakin softly bumped his forehead against the baby’s, who only giggled at the playful behaviour. Anakin couldn’t help but quietly laugh too. It went on too long and divulged into hiccups and tears. Not again. Anakin could not let Mustafar happen again.  

That padawan may have overstepped his boundaries but Anakin decided he was going to be the responsible one in this scenario. He moved the baby back into the pillowcase and fidgeted with the attached belt tugging at his neck where a red mark was appearing. Silently, he followed the path Shmi and Xanatos had gone, hoping that he’d find the pair.

When Anakin found a banged up B3-S2 his blue eyes widened.

He hurriedly knelt down, taking the pillowcase holding Obi-Wan off and laying the baby on the ground. Anakin moved closer to the droid and assessed it. Burned and dented, a thin trail of smoke coming from its innards, a limb torn apart, the nanny droid had certainly seen better days. Anakin had to pull hard to open up and inspect the droid’s motherboard. He found the source of the smoke and, once realising it wasn’t required to keep B3-S2 ‘alive’ in a robotic sense, pulled it out and tossed it away. He fiddled with the wires here and there, making shortcuts and sacrificing movement of its remaining limbs, so it could keep most important gears working. It wasn’t perfect and B3-S2 definitely needed attention after this was all over, but the droid had been saved.

Anakin rebooted B3-S2. The lights signalling its eyes flickered before remaining. The droid rotated its head to acknowledge Anakin and baby Obi-Wan. Anakin felt a pull in his chest at the vulnerable state of the droid. He always hated seeing C3PO and R2D2 damaged. “It’s okay,” he said. “You won’t be able to move your limbs but at least you’re functioning.”

<…thank you>

“How did this happen anyway?”

B3-S2 was quiet before muttering, <I tried to help. I’m not very helpful>

Anakin frowned, “Help? With what?”

<The slavers. They took the padawan and that girl>

Anakin paused.

Slowly, the young man rose to his feet.

Then Anakin bolted.

If B3-S2 had a human shaped mouth it would be gaping. The droid attempted to call out to the human but its voice recorder had been mildly damaged and its volume was stuck low. B3-S2 glanced down at the small baby left behind as well. Obi-Wan had rolled onto his tummy and staring after where Anakin had disappeared. To the droid’s horror, the baby began to yelp and cry for Anakin. His palms hit the floor and his feet kicked the pillowcase. Without access to its limbs, the droid could only try calming the baby down with its quiet voice. But Obi-Wan wasn’t hearing it. The baby continued to sob and crying for Anakin.

<Oh dear> B3-S2 sighed. It looked up again.

At the end of the corridor stood a Zygerrian wearing maroon armour. He was smirking.

 

~o0o~

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…_

_A boy found warmth from those he held dear._

_And ignored the heat of summer’s tempting sneer._

_But when winter came, its bite was too rough to bare._

_And to the sun’s glare, those before could not compare._

~o0o~

 

Captain Calrissian was ready for action when Qui-Gon arrived at the battle scene. He relayed the events, the plan and showed off the data chip from that babysitting droid. Calrissian briefly swung between annoyance at the droid for barging in on her ship’s information but also impressed with its hacking abilities. Calrissian informed her Twi’lek second-in-command of her new orders before leaving the site with Qui-Gon.

The two were pleased to find the hallways back to the bridge empty of slavers. While many were near the civilians, the others at this end had been successfully blocked by Calrissian and her crew. So the pair made it without new injuries and feeling flushed with triumph. But their hearts were beating at a fast pace as the need to end this pressed firmly. As Calrissian punched the correct numbers into a control panel to enter the bridge she bitterly remarked, “I’m going to lose people, aren’t I?”

For a moment it seemed like the Jedi had either missed her words or actively chose to ignore it. But when the door to the bridge slid open, Qui-Gon replied back tenderly, “Yes. I’m sorry.”

Calrissian inserted the chip into the controls and accessed the menu, unlocking all the security codes, as she said stiffly, “I’m not letting them get away with this. I’ll find them.”

Qui-Gon stood by her side. “I promise we’ll help you.”

Calrissian inspected the Jedi’s face, making sure he wasn’t lying to soften the blow. The drive and compassion she saw on Qui-Gon’s face felt akin to her own. Finally, with the two knowing there was not much else that could be done, waited for the data chip to work and hand them complete control the transportation ship and the huge docking tubes. Calrissian took a deep breath and pressed the button to unlatch the tubes.

The ships began to separate.

~o0o~

 

The last thing a Zygerrian saw was a flash of green light before his head was detached from his neck. It thudded loudly on the floor. Anakin jumped over it and swung his lightsabre again, slicing another slaver in half, taking great pleasure in the horrified gasp, before leaving the worthless being behind. The Zygerrians were no match against Anakin’s anger. Glorified fleshy B1 battle droids were what these slavers were. Anakin cut through a crowd of these slavers like they were paper, quickly and efficiently, ensuring they well and truly felt the ice code grips of death like he had.

Up ahead, Anakin saw the second entrance. A bundle of slavers all holding children and teenagers alike were running through the docking tube and into their ship. Hot fury seized Anakin again and Vader headed towards the tube, eager to tear apart these Zygerrians with the lightsabre and show them what anger really felt like.

The door closed.

Anakin slammed into it and was forced back. He gaped at the docking tube as it disconnected from the ship, drifting away. “No…” he whispered harshly. “NO!” He bashed the door with his fists. With his knuckles aching, his furious state considered cutting the door down with the lightsabre then remembered that all he would meet outside was space. He watched with increasing rage as the slave ship sucked in its docking tube and disappeared into hyperspace.

Anakin left the area aiming to reach the bridge and shout down the kriffing idiot who decided to separate the ships.

 

~o0o~

 

Once the unconsciousness young Zygerrian woman was tied up, locked away and monitored with tight security, Tahl pulled back hair away from her face and walked briskly around the area searching for Qui-Gon. Along the way she aided those who were recovering from injuries, saving the lives of those severely hurt with her Force healing, and directing groups towards the civilians, checking to see how many were taken. Tahl sighed deeply.

The Jedi stewed over how and when she was going to report this to the Council when she spotted a familiar damaged droid alone in a hallway. She called for a mechanic to save the poor thing. After its help in separating the ships, Tahl wasn’t going to have this droid wasted away. The woman continued down her path towards the bridge. She knew she had finally arrived when her ears picked up two voices. One was Qui-Gon’s and the other’s was Luke’s. He was shouting.

Tahl entered the scene. Qui-Gon was pale and holding up his palms in a peaceful gesture. But it did nothing to calm the raging storm that was Luke. Tahl honestly would prefer her luck with a pride of gundarks than challenge the fury radiating off of Luke.

“Will you just accept that this is _your_ fault!?”

“Luke _please_ ,” Qui-Gon beseeched. “This is nobody’s fault. We’ll do what we can to –”

“ –Don’t you even care that your padawan was taken by those _slavers_?” Luke spat out the word as though it was poisonous. Tahl baulked at what she heard, feeling a wave of sympathy and guilt for Qui-Gon.

“…Luke, we will find them,” Qui-Gon insisted. He looked to the floor and muttered, “I _promise_.”

Luke flew into another rage, “Your promise means _nothing_ to me! I’ve lost her _again_!”

“Please, Luke, just stay calm –”

“ –DON’T TELL ME TO STAY CALM!” Luke barked. Tahl and Qui-Gon recoiled. The Force crackled around Luke like it was lightning. “If I had done something sooner I would have saved her! _Don’t_ tell me to stay calm! You can’t just tell me to stay calm and expect that to work!”

Qui-Gon stepped away from the young man and leaned against the wall. Tahl meanwhile had soaked in the dangerous anger from Luke. She was about to just take Qui-Gon by the arm and move him away when she recalled something. Something important. Something that made her feel sick with dread. Relying on the Force to steady her emotions, Tahl marched forward to confront Luke, who was still going off.

“Shut up.”

Both Qui-Gon and Luke gaped at her.

“ _What_?!” Luke hissed.

Tahl glared, “I said _shut up._ ”

Qui-Gon got up from his spot, “Wait, Tahl, don’t –”

“ _No_ Qui, both of you shut up,” Tahl snapped back. “I did as you suggested and look at what’s happened.”

Wrath flared in Luke’s eyes as Qui-Gon stammered, “Y-you can’t go blaming Luke for the slavers.”

“No,” Tahl agreed spitefully. She turned back to Luke and continued, “But I can blame you for this…”

Luke sneered at the woman, “…Oh do tell you kriffing –”

“ – _Luke_ ,” Tahl said coldly. “Where is Obi-Wan?”

A small faint gasp escaped Qui-Gon who looked to Luke expectantly. Luke was silent for a moment before rolling his eyes and huffing back, “With B3-S2 of course.”

“No,” Tahl shot down.

“…No?” Luke repeated.

“No,” Tahl said again. She crossed her arms and added, “I passed by the droid on my way here. On its own, no baby in sight.” She waited.

Qui-Gon glanced back and forth between the two, concern aging his face. Finally Qui-Gon asked, “Luke, what have you done?”

 

Anakin couldn’t think. He couldn’t…

Anakin bolted.

He ignored Tahl and Qui-Gon calling out to him and raced through the hallways, pass the remaining civilians and staff members. Anakin could barely breath, could barely rasp out the name as he begged for the owner to answer. He reached out into the Force but felt nothing. After what felt like ages, Anakin happened upon a familiar pillowcase and attached belt on the floor.

Anakin gathered the pillowcase and held it close.

Obi-Wan was gone.

Anakin broke down in tears.

~o0o~

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away._

_There was simply a boy who lost his way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with this chapter just clocking in over 10, 000 words and the previous chapter at 7, 000, can you imagine that I was originally going to have these two chapters as one?! Far out! So much emotion!! What to do?!! And yes, Anakin messed up again but don’t worry, I’m not writing a tragedy. I love tragedy but I also love happy endings. 
> 
> Right, so I’ll be honest the next update will probably take a while. Why? While I have an outline and plan of how the story progresses and what the characters will do, I haven’t gone into the detail of it yet. Like, say with this and the previous chapter, I knew where I wanted my characters to end up and how their character flaws got in the way BUT I had to sit down and figure out how the whole thing panned out. Like, what they actually physically did! I am not naturally good at this. I am no J.K. Rowling or George R. R. Martin. Just writing the plan down for chapters 7 and 8 took me days and then actually writing it on top of that. So, yeah, warning. Next update, might take a while cause my brain suuuuucks. 
> 
> Also, I’m a bit embarrassed to do this but here we go. I have a tumblr of the exact same name, Tomatosoupful. I admittedly don’t do much but I do follow some fantastic Star Wars blogs. No pressure, I am an extremely boring bystander on tumblr.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back. I have outlined more of how this story will progress, thank god, and things are moving. While I have tried to balance between humour and drama, I’ll be honest, things are going to get more drama heavy. I mean, shit man, it is Star Wars and behind all the fun and humour, there is so much god damn drama and tragedy that time travel fics are known to eventually address. And even though Warmth was created cause I loved the idea of Anakin stupidly stealing baby Obi-Wan, I still want to just cuddle the poor guy up and make everything okay. Anyone have any ideas yet as to how this story will end?

The Force felt like a stranger.

For all of his many centuries living, Master Yoda had never heard the Force sing a different song. All his long life and for every Jedi, it sang the same song but changed its tempo and pitch in accordance to its message. For every Jedi, the song’s sound was unique. According to the works of great philosophers in the Archives, it sounded like a choir ringing in a large hall. For some it was a flute’s whistle in a gentle breeze, and for Master Yoda it was a small child humming with great enthusiasm. The child’s voice had once been his own but no matter the wrinkles or the wisps of white hair, his child remained and forever reminded Yoda of his duty to the younglings.

Now though, the Force was singing a different song entirely.

Confronting, Mace Windu had described it. A challenge, Yoda had corrected. He sat alone in his apartment all night contemplating the best means of understanding. Never mind the why and how just yet. That would come later. A message was to be received and it never did any good to ignore the messenger for more trivial pursuits. Yoda listened.

The song of the Unifying Force.

And the landscapes of the Living Force.

Yoda, the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order for a reason, sunk into both. He sat amongst the bamboo forest. He listened as the Force’s new song whispered through the wind breathing between the leaves and the tapping of trunks. Uncertainty crawled through Yoda like an old illness and a small part of him longed for his long dead master. Although the body was gone, the spirit still remained and guided the old once padawan as he learned the new song.

It ached of misery.

It wished for redemption.

It hated its very being.

It wanted so much.

Passion drove it.

Yet so did guilt.

Both born from each other.  

It felt like a lost lonely child.

Master Yoda reached out but it shrank and ran away from his touch.

His meditation dissolved away.

The door to his apartment was knocked precisely three times. Only one person did that and had been strictly following that pattern from the moment he was taken on as a padawan. “Come in, Mace,” Yoda called. “Always welcome, you are.”

Mace Windu entered the room stiffly. Usually, the man would offer his former master a smile in return to Yoda’s comment. A routine established when Mace was barely eleven every time he arrived home from a hard day of study. Even without the Force to inform Yoda of Mace’s mood, the old master would always know when something was bothering him by the deviations to this routine.

“We have a problem,” Mace said. He sat down onto a soft pillow, careful to avoid bumping his knees against the low table. Yoda poured him a pot of tea and slid the cup over. Mace accepted it and blew the liquid gently. He continued gravely, “Tahl just reported that their ship was attacked by slavers. Padawan Du’Crion and Initiate Kenobi were taken, along with many other civilians.”

Yoda’s ears dropped. Although wise in the ways of the Force and the Order’s teachings, Mace could see the sadness and worry in the old master’s eyes. Many were unable to see it but after years of training under Yoda, Mace have come to recognise these emotions whenever he had put himself in danger. Subtle and reigned in but still genuine regardless of what some Jedi thought. Mace threaded his fingers together as he said, “With your permission, I request leading a team of Jedi to support Tahl and Qui-Gon in their rescue mission.”

A small smile emerged on Yoda’s face, “Certain you are, a rescue mission there will be?”

Mace nodded, “Yes. Their mission was to bring back Kenobi.”

“Wait, they won’t.”

“I know,” Mace agreed. “That is why I must leave immediately.”

Yoda frowned, “Surprised I am, captured the padawan was. Never leaves his master’s side.”

Mace took another sip of tea, “Tahl explained that …he was trying to protect a civilian. Left his master’s side to help someone.”

A long contemplative silence followed. Mace watched for Yoda’s response. The old grandmaster stared at his swirling tea, listening again to the soft new tune of the Force. He firmly nodded once and said, “Good. A true Jedi protects.”

“You don’t call that attachment?” Mace wondered. “From Tahl’s reports it sounded as though he had established a friendship with this civilian.”

“Attachments, a danger, they can be,” Yoda’s replied wisely. “When uncontrolled, when unguided, a danger they _will_ be. An attachment, Qui-Gon has to his padawan. Needed this, he did. Needed this, Xanatos did too. Strong their bond is. Stronger it will become, when independent they can both be.”

Mace absorbed what his former master told him. Careful to understand every word and message with deep clarity. After another long gulp of tea Mace said, “Do you think this will help our … problem with Padawan Du’Crion?”

“All padawans, grow up they do,” Yoda answered. “Every path is different.”

A newly minted padawan Windu would have rolled his eyes behind his master’s back but a wise and well respected Master Windu nodded, understanding the message laying beneath. Patience.

“What say you?” Yoda asked. “No trust in your Jedi brother and sister to complete the mission?”

Master and Padawan Windu shared their knowledge of Yoda’s unique form of questioning. Most would be tempted to aggravation or offence, but for those who knew the sneaky gremlin well, it was simply a challenge. A challenge to ensure they were confident in what they were doing. “I do trust them,” Mace answered with firm conviction. “However, us Jedi protect each other. We look out for one another. I cannot stand back when two of our own are in danger. Regardless of one’s opinions on the padawan, Du’Crion is one of us and Kenobi will become one of us. Even if we arrive and the younglings are already saved, our duty as fellow Jedi still stands.”

Yoda rested one hand on top of the other and gazed at his former padawan with an expression Mace knew all too well. Whenever Mace had performed a kata perfectly, made a valiant effort in his studies or followed the Force’s will, Master Yoda would give him a look that expressed his pride. “Go,” Master Yoda blessed him. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you.”

~o0o~

 

“Captain! _Wait_ ,” Tahl called out. Her boots skidded as she struggled to catch up whilst also appear calm and civilised. When Iris Calrissian only increased her pace Tahl gave up the pretence and simply raced up to her. “Captain, _please_ , I understand you’re not in …the best of moods but I insist – ”

“ –I told you, your presence is unnecessary,” Calrissian grumbled back.

She turned a corner sharply and Tahl joined her, flinching when this strained her injured hip. Tahl repeated the Code’s teachings under her breath. It felt as though she and Calrissian had been repeating the same lines of dialogue for the past three hours like two apathetic  actors. The set pieces differed depending on where the conversations took place but all tied under a constant theme of desperation and misery in the aftermath of the slavers attack. Family members were stolen away, crewmembers felt useless in their failure and all were wondering why such fate had befallen on them. The Republic supply ship that had answered the distress beacon not too long ago shared their aid and heard the stories. Their captain expressed his condolences but did not intrude on Calrissian’s space. The woman’s mind was trying to focus on too many things in one go and the last thing she needed were unnecessary conversation. So she had been avoiding the Jedi like a plague and stubbornly refusing to adhere to their request.

Too bad Tahl was just as stubborn. “Captain, as a Jedi I –”

Calrissian whirled to her and cut in, “ –As a _Jedi_? As a Jedi, this should never have happened. Our ship should have arrived safely on Alderaan by now.”

Tahl admitted that the Captain, with her large frame and toned features, had a natural talent for intimidation. Most would crumble at the woman’s hard stare. However Tahl was a Jedi and her own master’s intense lectures had toughened her skin. Straightening her back, Tahl answered firmly, “May I remind you _Captain_ , that without us far more civilians would have been captured. I understand you’re upset but I won’t allow you to demean our efforts.”

Anger flashed in Calrissian’s eyes, “How dare you –”

“ –And besides,” Tahl continued softly. “You and I both know where your anger really lies, Iris.”

Calrissian blinked. “Who …?” she sighed roughly then grabbed Tahl’s forearm and dragged her into a separate room away from any bystanders. There was a single window, a table and a few chairs shrouded in dim lighting. “Who said you could call me by my name? Calrissian is just fine.”

“Apologies,” Tahl submitted. So much for that tactic. “…my point still stands.”

The Captain raked her fingers through dry curly hair as her breaths came out fast and rugged. The Jedi had been chasing after her for hours now and wasn’t letting go, like a carnivore’s jaws on its prey. Tahl took pity on the woman and said, “I’m not asking too much from you. Us Jedi are involved in this as much as you. It is our duty to save these civilians and our responsibility.”

“So you’ve come to grovel?” Calrissian answered gruffly.

“No, I’m asking for cooperation,” Tahl retorted. She unfolded her arms, aware of the way body language sent subtle messages of either aggression or compliance. “It isn’t fair to us or yourself to throw blame. We need to focus on what to do next.”

“And the only way we’ll know that is by figuring out where we went wrong and how we can fix that,” Calrissian said shortly.

Tahl stayed where she was as Calrissian paced back and forth on the other side of the room. Tahl nodded, “You’re correct, but in a situation like ours, we were unprepared. That is hardly something worthy of inflicting blame upon. Making mistakes isn’t a grievous act. It’s only a grievous act when you commit the same mistake again, knowing it won’t work.”

A loud thump sounded when Calrissian’s fist smacked the wall, followed by a long tired sigh. The woman faced the Jedi, grim and exhaustion lining her face, and shaking her head. “Look, Jedi, I don’t … _do_ well when …things go wrong. I have to blame _something_ otherwise I …”

“…Yes?”

“…I know how I function,” Calrissian muttered miserably to herself. “I _know_ what I’ll do if I don’t find an outlet. I turn to the gambling table. I turn to the dice, the chips and to the adrenaline, and I _lose it._ I lose it all. Every. Time and then I find myself in need of blaming something again. And I go right on back like a child to sweets. It’s turns into a karking cycle.” Calrissian pulled up a chair and crashed onto it, resting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.

There was a silence that simultaneously felt heavy with the weight of admittance yet light as a feather upon it too, as though casting off thick coat. Calrissian felt pinpricks of heat travel along her limbs and eventually her eyes. She clenched her jaw when footsteps approached her. Glancing up she saw the Jedi at the other end of the table. Not Tahl but the Jedi Master Tahl Uvain. A Jedi in all its glory. Looking upon the majesty that seem to radiate from this individual as though something powerful in the galaxy favoured her, Calrissian found amusement in her disbelief of their existence as a young woman. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to look down upon her once sceptical self, for the enlightenment born from gazing at the Jedi only appeared that much greater in light of her cynicism.

The Jedi said, “I won’t pretend I understand your problems, but I can sympathise. You talk about a cycle, but have you considered that the search for blame begins it in the first place?”

Calrissian threaded her fingers together and replied bitterly, “Of course I have. I know how it all works. But …it’s like walking down a narrow pathway. You can’t turn left, you can’t turn right. Only forward. You know what’s come, you know what’s coming, but you just keep on walking. Cause standing still isn’t an option.”

Tahl considered the woman’s words and softly answered, “Almost… sounds like the Force.”

“Then the Force sounds terrifying,” Calrissian said thickly.

“It can be,” Tahl admitted. “But that is only _one_ part of the Force, for it can be many things. Just as, someone like yourself can be caught and trapped in a cycle. But that doesn’t define everything. It does not mean you have only one direction to follow.”

Calrissian sighed in disbelief, “With all due respect, _Jedi_ , where else can I turn?”

Tahl licked her dry lips as she considered her answer. Her role as the Jedi meant being a protector even when one wasn’t entirely sure what they were protecting against, or even if the role as that protector was to back off and let the individual save themselves. “You said there was a pathway, correct? Walls and a way forward. But I didn’t hear you mention a ceiling… it will be difficult, I know, to climb those very walls but it can be done. And who says you have to do it on your own? Or you can’t slip on the way?”

Calrissian didn’t answer. She barely moved. Only stared at her hands and the memories infused in the lines and scars amongst the skin. That is until the door to the room opened. Tahl and Calrissian turned to the newcomer. The second-in-command green Twi’lek looked relieved when her eyes landed on Calrissian, “Oh, Captain! There you are. The prisoner is ready.”

“Good,” Calrissian said. Her chair scrapped against the floor as she got up. She brushed past the Jedi and murmured, “Come on.”

Feeling satisfied Tahl followed after her. Outside Tahl briefly caught a glimpse of Qui-Gon before he escaped her sight. A mixture of sympathy for the capture of his padawan, and frustration for his nativity in strangers settled in her stomach. It didn’t surprise her that neither were keen on each other’s company at the moment, yet both felt the ache for the other across the bond. A part of Tahl almost wished for a clear path for her and Qui-Gon. For at the moment, all they had was a labyrinth.

~o0o~

_You don’t show fear because you have **no** fear._

Kida remembered her father’s words well. Not long after tracking him down, with nothing but a torn map and the blessings of her dead mother, Kida’s father had cautiously allowed her into his realm of significance. Nuro Narrin was seconds away from ordering his men to riddle Kida with lasers when she reached out to him with the Force. And he felt their blood connection. Kida hadn’t missed the look of disgust on his face when she reminded him of her mother but it was the same face her so-called grandparents and uncle had shown her too. At least his expressions eventually changed.

He had invited her into his office after a fight had broken out.

A human male had taken great interest in her, pleased with her features and Force abilities. And didn’t know when to stop. He was black and blue by the time Kida was done with him. Kida was then dragged into her father’s office where he promptly congratulated her and told her: “You don’t show fear because you have no fear.”

Kida returned the glare Captain Calrissian sent her way. She did not fear this woman or the Jedi behind her. The four crewmembers stationed to guard her were sent away. Calrissian pulled out a chair opposite of Kida and motioned the Jedi to sit. The Jedi thanked her but said she’d stand instead.

“Sit.”

“…Alright,” the Jedi allowed.

As Calrissian grabbed another chair and moved it towards the table she muttered to the Jedi, “Don’t bother asking to be involved if you’re only going to hang round like a bad smell.”

The Jedi shook her head and verbally agreed. Making eye contact with Kida, the Jedi gave an amused smile and shrugged. Kida hissed at her, sneering at the pathetic attempts to lower her guard. Jedi were all the same, according to her father. Liars who pretended they were the angels of Iego in their acts of innocence. Narrin acknowledged that he was a liar too but was honest about it. Kida momentarily wished for his guidance than dashed that fearful thought away. She held no fear.

“Alright,” Calrissian started. Kida’s eyes narrowed at the Captain’s tired tone. “I’m not here for any drama or sob stories. I just want to know where your so-called father has taken our people.”

“He _is_ my father,” Kida snapped.

Calrissian’s eyebrows rose, “Really? Well, he certainly had no problem leaving without his own flesh and blood.”

Kida sneered at the implication, “He didn’t know.”

“Funny,” the Captain commented. “Because from where I was looking, all of you kept in close contact with each other at all times. I would have thought Narrin would be paying attention to his daughter’s location.”

Kida collected a number of names to call the Captain and was about to spill them when the Jedi’s calm voice interrupted, “If Narrin is your father, as you claim, then surely he wants you back.”

“…Yes,” Kida answered stiffly. “But he’s not stupid. He won’t fall for any of your tricks.”

“Not tricks,” the Jedi dismissed. “Just a trade.”

Kida processed what the two women were offering. A part of her was overjoyed at the thought of being back where she belongs again, especially for such a small cost. However, for her father, a loss will still a loss regardless of its size. And he was never happy with a loss. She knows he would agree to the terms but she feared the punishment on the horizon –

No. She did not have any fear.

“Look, princess, do you want to go home or not?” Calrissian asked sharply. “Cause I can list approximately fifteen people, the oldest being nineteen and the youngest 5 months, that want to go home.” The Zygerrian girl glowered at her but the Captain added, “Just tell us where your base is located. You can contact your father once there under our surveillance and a trade will be organised. Deal?”

Kida looked to the Captain and then the Jedi. Sighing in frustration she replied, “We’re in the Pilga System. We have a base on each of the five planets but we only use one at a time to ensure we aren’t trapped by enforcers. I can’t tell you which planet my father is headed to. I’m not privy to that information.”

Calrissian absorbed this and then turned to the Jedi. “Is she telling the truth?”

Kida flinched at the Jedi’s hard stare. The woman’s striped gold and green eyes looked as though they could peel away every physical and spiritual layer of Kida. “Yes,” the Jedi answered.

The Captain nodded then got up off her chair. “Enjoy your cell,” she said before moving towards the exit, ordering the guards to renter.

As the shuffling of feet surrounded Kida, the Zygerrian made a point to avoid the Jedi’s gaze. Her father had once said that if you looked too closely into the eyes of the Jedi, they would hijack your own Force abilities and steal it for themselves.

~o0o~

_They really thought they could escape._

_Vader ignited his lightsabre, its red glow poisoning the hallway. The cluster of rebellion soldiers shivered before him. Instead of accepting their fate, they thought to challenge. Vader clutched one soldier by the throat with the Force and threw him aside. He sent a Force wave and knocked men away. At the far end Vader could see one man denting the door with his fists desperate to get through. Vader marched towards him, tossing aside and cutting down any fools who still believed they could match the powers of the Dark Side._

_And then Vader saw it. The datafile containing valuable information on the Death Star._

_He was so close. Vader barely heard the cries and pleas as he destroyed the rebels. All he could see was that datafile, getting closer and closer –_

_– No! Vader watched the ship carrying the datafile escape._

_So they really could –_

_No. This small lucky shot Vader could hardly call an achievement meant nothing. It meant as little as the lives lost to defend it._

Anakin fell out of bed.

With the blanket tangled in his limbs and tightly around his waist, Anakin remained where he was. His haggard and shuddering breaths eventually slowed down into long desperate gulps of air. Anakin took comfort at the ease oxygen flowed through his nostrils and mouth, down the windpipe and into his lungs, filling them up and loosening the tension throughout his body. He can breathe, he can breathe… but not much else, apparently.

A knock on the cabin door startled Anakin up from his position. When Qui-Gon stepped into the room, Anakin was seating cross legged with the blanket curled around him and his curly hair a mess that would have made his Obi-Wan grimace and then joke about the state of behaviour on Tatooine.

Obi-Wan.

Anakin felt sick again. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Qui-Gon in the eye.

“…Luke,” Qui-Gon’s voice soothed. “If you don’t mind –”

“ –Don’t call me Luke.”

Qui-Gon blinked, “Pardon?”

Anakin tucked his hands into the sleeves and fiddled with the material. He swallowed thickly before mumbling, “I don’t deserve that name.” When Qui-Gon’s eyes widened in concern, Anakin’s stomach felt worse. His voice sounded dry and exhausted as he explained, “I _don’t_ … ‘Luke’… it means hope. He brought me hope. I …don’t know how to do that. Not anymore.” And the darkest thought that sounded an awful lot like Sidious questioned if he ever had.

In the silence that followed Qui-Gon conversed with the Force asking for aid. He considered answering with his well-known adage, ‘focus on the here and now’ but the Force said no. Qui-Gon wondered if requesting further clarification on the past instead was needed. But the Force said no. Would pretending the young man had done nothing wrong help soften the blow? Absolutely not, the Force deemed. A last suggestion brought forward the Jedi Code to which the Force vibrated the strongest in its answering of no. Qui-Gon sat there on his knees looking at the nameless miserable individual.

Now that’s a thought. “Then may I have your real name?” Qui-Gon asked quietly. “Your name stays with you no matter where you go and if you won’t take Luke due to your …mistakes, then perhaps take the name that truly owns these mistakes.”

Anakin stared at the floor for a few moments. “…I could say Vader,” he whispered, Qui-Gon barely catching the words. “But then I’d just be lying. I’ve always been there…

“…my name is Anakin Skywalker.”

The Force felt warm as the claim rang true. Qui-Gon felt as though he had reached a landmark. Only for the Force to grab him by the shoulder, like a watchful adult, and then gesture to the road ahead. A line of rocks in a pool in which discovering Anakin’s true name had only been the first jump. Qui-Gon toyed with an idea, admitting his typical behaviour, before asking, “Anakin, would you meditate with me?”

Anakin frowned at the request. “What? Why?”

“Because meditation …” Qui-Gon carefully chose his words. “It’s like looking at the world with a third eye, that third eye being the Force. We’ve all made mistakes, especially with each other. I’m a firm believer in the necessity of mediation.” The master’s lips shook slightly as he tried to lighten the mood, “You can ask my padawan next time we see him. He can tell you all about it.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Anakin complied. “Fine.” When Qui-Gon beamed, Anakin begrudgingly wiped away his frown.

As the two closed their eyes and reached out into the Force, Anakin felt guilt gnawing in his chest. He never dived deeply into meditation for a multitude of reasons despite his master’s teachings. One of them was the difficulty in sitting down and clearing his mind. There were always so much many things to think about. And secondly, most importantly, the landscape his connection to the Force conjured was a place he never wanted to return to.

Soaked in the Force, Anakin could see Tatooine’s desert through the thick fog.

When he was a fresh padawan, Anakin had wondered if the Force was playing a nasty joke. To transform into the desert of his childhood in slavery, to the desert he abandoned his mother to, to the ugly foul lifeless desert that offered nothing to the people of Tatooine and anyone else beyond the planet. The most useless decrepit place in the galaxy was _his_ Force landscape? As he grew older and accepted the role of Vader, it made far more sense than he was willing to accept. But Anakin’s refusal to be anywhere near the dry spiteful desert didn’t change.

He turned around in disgust and froze. In the distance he could see a white sandy beach. Anakin could feel the crisp cool water rolling onto the sand, taste the salt in the air, smell it too and the fragrance of flowers from the neighbouring jungle. Anakin jumped into the beach scenery and felt the spray from the Force ocean sink into his bones and clear the nausea away. Anakin glanced down and spotted footprints. He followed after them. Around him, the sun was setting on the horizon. Pinks and purples dashed across the sky and their blend reminded Anakin of the hazy colours of speeding Pod-racers.

The sunset had his complete attention until he came across something new. Or rather a series of new things. Boats. One after the other. All of different colours and marked with unique etchings. Anakin shuddered at the blackened burnt boat but admired the maroon one in front of it. Then he noticed that he wasn’t alone. Standing before another boat was Qui-Gon Jinn.

Anakin gaped.

He was about to call out to him when Qui-Gon’s hand pressed against the wood. Anakin watched the Jedi brush away the white sand stuck to the side of the boat to reveal a latch. Qui-Gon hesitated and then pulled it open. Inside was a bundle of rope but it was frail and tattered. Qui-Gon picked it up and caressed the damaged rope, looking between it and its end that climbed up the mast, barely holding onto the sail. This part of the rope looked to be healthy but…

“What is that?” Anakin asked.

Qui-Gon gasped audibly and turned around. His skin paled and the large man stumbled. Anakin would have been amused by the display if Qui-Gon didn’t look so frightened and shocked.

“A-Anakin! What are you _doing_ here?!” Qui-Gon spluttered. “ _How_ are you here?”

“What are you…?” Anakin’s voice trailed away as his worry for the Jedi grew. “I don’t know. I just …came here. I walked on in.”

Qui-Gon closed the boat’s latch and moved closer, “No, Anakin, you don’t understand. You can’t just _walk_ in. This is… _me_ and my bond to the Force. _No one_ is capable of doing this.”

“…Oh,” was all Anakin managed.

Qui-Gon almost lost his composure again at the absurdity and impossibility of what was happening before him. “Anakin, I don’t – who _are_ you?” Anakin only stared at him, as though waiting for another question. The Force rolled into a small wave and soaked Qui-Gon’s feet, prompting another question. “…and who is Obi-Wan?”

The beach responded. The waves pushed against the sand. Anakin withdrew from its reach but the waves stretched closer. It maneuvered Anakin to the black boat. The young man only realised what the Force was doing once his knee bumped the boat. Anakin considered a million ways to avoid blurting out another truth but Qui-Gon was looking at him strangely and that just made Anakin’s heart beat faster in anticipation. Despite this Qui-Gon having yet to meet the small nine-year-old human being on Tatooine, to Anakin, this was still the same man that saved him from slavery’s clutches. The man he wished he’d had the chance to grow closer to. No longer as his master, like young Anakin had once wanted, but his grandmaster.

Taking the dive, Anakin confessed, “I’m not from here. This time period, I mean. I was thrown back to the past and I’m just… _trying_ to fix things.”

“… _Oh_ ,” fell off Qui-Gon’s tongue. There wasn’t room for denial. The Force hummed in agreement and the water lapped around Anakin and the black boat in contentment. “Oh… _Force._ I _didn’t_ expect that,” he admitted. Anakin chewed his bottom lip. Qui-Gon rubbed his face as his mind picked itself up again as though it had been interrupted by a hurdle in the road.

The maroon and black boat, Qui-Gon noticed, was behaving oddly. They rocked to and fro to the tugging of the ocean waves like usual except… the black boat was knocking against the tide, while the maroon moved with it. The boats were out of sync. And despite Qui-Gon’s acknowledged lack of understanding of their significance, even he could the feel the wrongness being revealed.

This maroon boat that brought up images of a young red-head boy, desperate for approval, captured Qui-Gon attention again. And it finally hit him. He addressed Anakin, “Obi-Wan. He’s to become my padawan, isn’t he?”

“He _is_ your padawan,” Anakin corrected, stepping away from the black boat and towards Qui-Gon.

_The Force is eternal_ , the very first lesson Jedi younglings are taught, echoed in their minds.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath, establishing stability in the jumble of information piled onto him, and went to place a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “...Anakin –”

The beach disappeared.

And all Qui-Gon felt was a powerful blast of the Force. It dragged his bones apart as though pulling them from their sockets, dried the liquid from his body, stole the years of his lifespan and clawed at his face and denting it with signs of aging. Qui-Gon simultaneously felt like he was experiencing the most powerful connection to the Force in the galaxy whilst also losing it as well.

It all ended when Anakin wrenched away from his grasp.

And the two landed back in the cabin room, gasping and gawking.

Qui-Gon patted his body, touched his face and inspected his Force signature. He was alright.

Sweat sliding down his forehead and cheeks, Anakin leaned against his bed frames and released a long sigh. “W-w-what? _What_?”

“Anakin,” Qui-Gon said. Anakin stilled, recalling a time when Qui-Gon had spoken to him in that same amazed and astounded tone. “ _Anakin_ , your connection to the Force …it’s the most powerful I have _ever_ felt. More so than the Order’s Grandmaster’s. What is your midi–?”

“ –None of your business,” Anakin cut him off.

Anakin fled the room.   

~o0o~

Darth Sidious ended his commlink call.

The Force shuddered at his crooked grin.

The Dark Side of the Force granted its users the pieces to complete a puzzle. While the Light side wasted its puppets’ time by having them chase after those very pieces.

The Sith considered the news from his underground communication network on Coruscant and the information provided to Senator Palpatine. His side project dedicated to stealing potential Jedi and other Force users useless to the Sith, and selling them off as slaves had picked up a noteworthy addition. With the goal of dwindling the Jedi population slowly and carefully, like a predator taking a bite from its unwitting prey over time, until they were too weak to defend themselves, Sidious was always pleased to hear his projects succeeding. The stolen Jedi baby was now in the hands of Sidious’ contractors.

Sidious hardly imagined the baby’s powerful thief was going to keep it that way for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels so strange to have certain characters out of the picture.   
> The Pilga system is completely made up. I feel like in the Star Wars galaxy you can kind of get away with that. Using actual planets for completely fictional things can get messy when considering how it might mix with canon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching up with the others and more fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t know if I did this before but just in case, I do want to give a shout-out to I_Gave_You_A_Fair_Warning for their re-imagining of my ‘poem’ from Chapter 8. Just, ahhh, they know how to handle the English language that’s for sure. So well done. 
> 
> P.S. God dammit this chapter was hard to write. I literally spent minutes with my brothers and dad who were preparing their lunches around me as I tried to find the right words and they desperately offered everything and anything they could think of. It also doesn’t help that I am addicted to Zelda: Breath of the Wild. I love that game SOOOO much.

The Force was gone.

Xanatos blinked back terrified tears and the rusty ceiling returned to focus. Water dripped in a slow dull pace and landed to his right. Every time a droplet splashed against his cheek, it snapped him out a panic-induced haze. Yet alongside the water as it travelled to his chin, Xanatos’ mind slipped back into a fretful state as it grappled with the Force’s lacking presence. It felt as though a limb had been sliced away in his sleep, something so important to him stolen away. The Force was e _verything_ for a Jedi and so without it, Xanatos was at the mercy of water droplets less he accepts the gravity of the situation and succumb to its terrifying ramifications.

After what seems like years, Xanatos built up enough energy to lift his hand and wipe away the water, the clammy skin contrasting with his burning cheeks. As he dragged his hand down it came across an alien texture that made the teenager flinch. He inspected it and realised it was a collar. A collar that seems to be wrapped in a ghostly shell that vibrated and hummed. Like spotting a familiar person in a crowd, Xanatos took a second to realise that it was the Force buzzing around the collar. He tried reaching out but like two opposing magnets, his very efforts seemed to be driving him further away. Despair wracked through the teenager. Never in any of his Jedi lessons has he heard of a blockage between the Force and its child. There was nothing in this galaxy that could do such a cruel thing. Or at least that was what the Jedi thought.

Xanatos pulled his hand away from the cursed collar around his neck and laid it beside his face to catch the falling droplets. With every splash, the dark corners of Xanatos’ vision grew until sleep overcame him.

~o0o~

Something was missing.

But Shmi couldn’t figure out what it was. Despite this its absence felt like someone mindlessly rattling their feet under a table, bothersome and constant but able to be brushed aside when something else came up. Something else came up. Shmi overheard whispers and blearily opened her eyes. Fingers instinctively curled as though trying to grasp whatever was missing. Shmi heaved her body up and her groan echoed in the chamber. It was cold and the ground was damp. An engine rumbled in the background like cicadas in the summer’s heat. There was an invasive tightness around her neck. Feeling it, Shmi realised she was wearing a collar of sorts and when she concentrated hard enough, she noticed it was causing a tingly feeling on her neck. Shmi’s eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of numerous small bodies, some still sound asleep and others awake and muttering to each other. All wore the very same collar. A group of five were huddled together and the tallest was a boy who appeared slightly older than her. They made eye contact but nothing more was done.

Shmi thought back to what happened before. It all came crashing through. Her shoulders shook as she swerved her head in all directions, taking in every last detail around her, and trying to imagine some way out of this. All her panicked mind could come up with was a simple cry for help and a plea to see her family again. Feeling cold and weak, Shmi pulled her legs close to her body. Hair fell over her shoulders and felt like a shield against the dark environment. Shmi berated her pathetic behaviour but no amount of demands to be brave like the Jedi spurred enough energy to get her to move.

The Jedi. Xanatos.

Shmi shuffled to the bodies and searched. Beyond her frantic breathing, she faintly heard the already awoken children questioning her and one particularly harsh voice commanding to shut up and calm down. Something snapped inside. Shmi glared at the oldest boy and snarled, “Shut up or I swear I’ll hit you so hard these kids will wake up before you do.”

With silence for a reply, Shmi got back to her searching. A sigh of relief eventually escaped her lips. When her hands touched Xanatos’ shoulders she felt a comforting warmth soak into her skin and a sense of calmness relax her. Shmi brushed the teenager’s hair aside and murmured his name. At the fluttering of his eyelids, Shmi smiled and moved to make sure the first thing Xanatos saw upon awaking was not this terrible environment but something familiar. She thought of her parents and how they eased her pain and fear when nightmares loomed too close to her heart. Shmi knew she wasn’t her parents or the Jedi in levels of strength and bravery but she would do the best she could. Shmi’s face brightened when Xanatos’ eyes opened completely.

There was a moment where both teenagers simply soaked in their presence, before Xanatos shakily sighed, “You’re okay. Thank the Force.” But then his small smile fell away as sadness swept in.

Shmi frowned worriedly, “What?”

“…Can’t you tell?” Xanatos whispered, strained and sickly. “It’s gone. The Force.”

“The…” Shmi’s voice trailed away as her frown deepened. “It’s gone? But how? Why would it –?”

“–The collar,” Xanatos murmured, picking at the cursed contraption around his neck. “I don’t know how, but it’s blocking the Force.”

Shmi’s hands leapt to her collar. Her quickening heart beat pulsed uncomfortably against the scratchy material. “Why am I wearing one?” she asked her voice squeaky as she wrestled with the need to rip apart the collar. Helping Xanatos sit up provided a reasonable enough distraction.

Xanatos himself looked at her strangely, “Because you have the Force?” when Shmi’s eyebrows furrowed and angled in a way that told of her disbelief, he added, “I mean, your connection is only small. Not enough to be a Jedi but it’s still there. Haven’t you felt that before? Haven’t you ever felt like something was wrong before anyone else, or something was helping when you were in trouble?”

Now seated side by side with only each other’s body to keep the cool away, Shmi rubbed her hands together obsessively as her mind scrambled over the dozens and dozens of memories slotting into place. It was like wearing protective goggles underwater for the first time, the fuzzy image finally becoming clear. Shmi felt a strange mixture of joy, for her old story books coming to life around her, but also fear for where this truth has brought her. Shmi turned to Xanatos and said, “What are we going to do if neither of us can use the Force? How do we get out of here?”

Xanatos failed to answer for two reasons. One was that he had no clue. The other was a new voice barging in to answer for him. “We probably won’t.”

It was only then Shmi realised almost everyone had woken up. A bunch of children and teenagers had split into sub-groups based on age or family relations. All were coated black and blue, some with bleeding lips and swollen eyes. Some of the articles of clothing worn might have looked prestigious and glamorous at one point but the dirty surroundings of what was recognised as a prison cell, levelled everyone into the same impoverish class. All were huddling together save for the older boy Shmi saw earlier who stood up and above the rest. With his full face in view Shmi guiltily noted the deep painful scratches running down a cheek, along with dry blood caking the injured side of his face. Maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at him before…

Xanatos attempted to get to his feet as well but gave up pretty quickly when pain dug its claws across his back. He harked back to his master’s lessons on diplomacy and countered the older boy, “You don’t know that. If you give up now than the slavers have already won.” Now _that_ sounded like his dear master. In fact, Qui-Gon had used those exact words a few missions ago. It had worked then.

Didn’t work as well now though. Many of the children grumbled or eyed the floor, none finding the confidence to resonate with Xanatos’ words. Inside it felt like Xanatos’ ribcage was squeezing inwards and a bubble of anxiety climbed up his throat. These reactions were not what he was expecting. When Qui-Gon had made that proclamation, the morale lifted and expanded. Here, it deflated like a pricked balloon. Xanatos glumly concluded that it was _he_ who must have done something wrong. The oldest boy scoffed loudly, “Don’t be so naïve. How is anyone supposed to even be able to find us?!”

Xanatos almost blurted out the bond shared between himself and Qui-Gon but the tugging around his neck silenced that thought. He barely met the older boy’s eyes but it didn’t escape his notice that they were glassy and filled with fear. Xanatos dismissed a bratty remark at this realisation and simply shrank away, unable to find the motivational words that his master all too easily could conjure in desperate times such as this.

“There are Jedi! They’ll be able to find us.”

All turned to Shmi who rose to her feet. Conscious of the all the attention on her, Shmi stamped down her nervousness and said firmly, thinking of the dejected padawan beside her feet, “The Jedi have saved countless of people all across the galaxy; they will come for us. I know it.” Invigorated by the curiosity blooming from the younglings, Shmi looked back to her friend, “Xanatos, tell them, your master will come looking for you and he’ll find all of us.”

Xanatos gazed at her before nodding with a shy smile.

“Wait.”

The oldest boy peered at Xanatos, “Is _he_ a Jedi?”

Shmi nodded, “Yes!”

“A Jedi in training…” Xanatos’ mumble was lost in the excited chatter of the children. A sick feeling frothed as Shmi only joined in, her infectious confidence winning the crowd at last.

It all ended abruptly when a loud bang sounded coming directly from the door to their cell. A harsh voice demanded them to shut their holes or else. The moment slipped away and children leaned closer, seeking comfort in each other. Although desperation and dread still clouded the thoughts of the stolen children, there was a single ray of hope sparkling underneath, like a stream of light peeping into a dense forest. Shmi especially soaked herself in this warmth and went to whisper something to Xanatos.

“Did you have to tell them?”

Shmi blinked, “Tell them what?”

“That I’m a Jedi?” Xanatos said, his voice hitching. “Did you see the looks on their faces? They all think I’m going to bust them out of here!”

Shmi pressed her palms against the boy’s chest to try and calm him. “Hang on, shuuush, _quiet_ or else they’ll hear us…” once the padawan’s breathing was normal again, Shmi said, “I just wanted to help them. They thought no one was coming for us. They needed to know that the Jedi will save us.”

“You don’t know that though –”

“–What do you mean I don’t –?”

“–Look, I’m sorry, but just because we’re Jedi doesn’t mean we’re indestructible,” Xanatos retorted, burying his head in his hands. “My master can’t find me if I’m not connected to the Force. While I wear this collar, we’re invisible to the Jedi… and even if I still had the Force, this is the slave industry. If the Jedi were as incredible as you think we are, it wouldn’t even exist. We’re not that powerful when it comes to the wealth of the slave industry. Don’t…count on us. Don’t count on me.”

Shmi’s shoulders slackened as she processed Xanatos’ words. Her chest flinched and ached. She forced away tears and muttered, “I …I got to believe in something or …” her voice cut out wetly but she soon added, “…I’m _going_ to see my mum and dad and sister again. I can’t be without them. If I can’t hold onto that hope, then what else am I supposed to do?” Shmi folded her arms around her, shivering at the thought of never seeing her family again. The galaxy surely couldn’t be so cruel.

“I’m sorry,” Xanatos whispered. “We’ll …figure out something.”

Shmi nodded stiffly.

The two glanced up sharply when outside, beyond the cell, they heard a baby’s cry.

~o0o~

Tahl was mindlessly sipping soup in the ship’s cafeteria when she felt a familiar presence. She glanced to her right and saw Qui-Gon enter looking distracted and caught in a flurry of excitement. This immediately put Tahl on edge, wondering what could have possibly put Qui-Gon in such a state. She supposed the wait to find out wouldn’t be long when Qui-Gon spotted and headed straight towards her table. He reminded Tahl of their younger days when he came bounding through the corridors of the Temple yelling with joy that he had passed the trials and was to become a Knight. He had leapt into Tahl’s arms and both had fallen to the ground. They ignored the bruising and went out that night promising to distress their masters with hangovers the following day.

It was memories like that which gave Tahl the patience to let Qui-Gon sit by her. It was also the other more frustrating memories that made Tahl purposely pretend nothing was on Qui-Gon’s mind and instead directed the conversation to something more relevant.

“I’ve just received word on the droid’s recovery,” she started, tearing apart a piece of bread and dipping it into her soup. “B3-S2 is pretty rugged up but it’ll survive. Hopefully we’ll get some insight on Obi-Wan’s theft when it reboots.”

“You’re not going to –oh. Yes, I see,” Qui-Gon took a moment to catch up. Shaking his head and clearing his throat to start again he said, “That is good to hear. Any ideas as to when it’ll wake up?”

Tahl shrugged, looking at her meal rather than the man she was still annoyed with, “That all depends on Luke. It appears he made a few adjustments to keep the droid alive. At least that’s what I assume. _Someone_ did something to the droid.” The woman sighed in exhaustion.

Qui-Gon casually clapped his palms together with an expression that made Tahl nervous. He then said a little too brightly, “Speaking of, would you like to know Luke’s real name?”

Tahl stared at him. “Excuse me?”

Her friend leaned in closer, excitement lighting up his Force presence, “ _Tahl_ , I was right. There’s something special about Anakin. You’re not going to believe –”

“– ‘Anakin’?”

“Yes, Tahl, _Tahl_ …” he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “We meditated together. Anakin walked into my Force landscape. And he’s not from here. He’s from the future. The Force told me he was telling the truth.”

Tahl barely knew where to start. She slowly breathed in, her held hand feeling numb. A faint frown marred her features as she considered what had just been told to her. The academic side of her dashed to the folders in her brain, storing all the information gathered after years working in the Archives. The results came in: never had there ever been an individual capable of entering someone’s connection to the Living Force, colloquially known as a ‘Force landscape.’ It was a private and deeply personal part of the Force-user and considered invasive and rude if one attempted to do the impossible and walk in. Hearing that the stranger was somehow able to stroll in Qui-Gon’s landscape simply did not compute with Tahl’s academic self. Yet a softer side, one that had shared a toy with Qui-Gon back in their creche days and secured a loyal friend, knew that no matter the ups and downs in their relationship throughout the years, there was not a single memory where Qui-Gon had lied to her. Her academic self reminded her that Qui-Gon may never have lied but that didn’t correlate to truth. His incorrect perceptions had gotten both into trouble in the past, which especially didn’t help when Qui-Gon stubbornly dug his heels into the ground and often refused to budge. The latest disaster being a fine example in Tahl’s firm opinion. However, she recalled the afternoon days ago, when a wander around the Archives brought her to the section on philosophy. There she had spotted the stranger revealed to be called Anakin making an absolute mess of the place, surrounded by abandoned books, and digging through the works of old Jedi Masters.  Every book had been on the Force and its connection to the concept of time.

Tahl rubbed her temples, feeling a headache emerge. The Force was many things and the Jedi its interpreter but Tahl wasn’t confident in her ability to understand such a challenging message. She wondered what her dear old master would think. She would have advised Tahl on being open to the ways of the Force but also stay keenly aware of Qui-Gon’s tendency to be swept up in the romantics of it all. Tahl pulled her hand away from Qui-Gon’s and threaded her fingers together, laying her chin on them. Qui-Gon, in his eagerness, lost patience and spoke up again, “I was thinking… about the books Master Dooku read all the time when I was a padawan.”

Tahl drew out of her deep thinking and replied, “On the Dark side of the Force?”

Qui-Gon huffed, “It wasn’t just the Dark side he studied. He studied every aspect of the Force. It’s eternal nature, it’s connection to everything that has existed and will exist. About balance. About …a Chosen One, born from the Force itself. He said that a being born from the Force would be the most powerful Force user in history. Far more powerful than even Master Yoda. Tahl, when Anakin mediated into my landscape… I _felt_ it. I felt his strength in the Force. I have never ever felt someone that powerful before –”

“–Are you suggesting –?!”

“–Tahl –”

“–No, Qui-Gon, what you’re saying…” Tahl briefly wished for another hour of sleep before saying with the dwindling patience of an exasperated parent with a misbehaving child, “I just feel that… you’re jumping to conclusions too quickly –”

“–You’re right, I was going to ask Anakin for a blood test to check his midi-chlorian count.”

“…Absolutely _not_ ,” Tahl dismissed, blown away by her friend’s one-track mind at times. “I’m… willing to have a _talk_ with Anakin over …this. And we’ll see.”

Qui-Gon stared at her, “We’ll …see?”

“Yes.”

A prickling of irritation nestled in Qui-Gon’s chest. He slipped his hands into the sleeves of his cloak and answered mildly, “Alright then.”

Tahl narrowed her eyes, having felt the negative emotions streaming across their bond. “Yes, ‘alright then.’ I’m not about to believe everything a man like Anakin says. A man who, need I remind you, stole and lost a baby, forgets himself in a panic, and abandons plans at whim.”

“You’ve haven’t felt the power he holds, Tahl,” Qui-Gon grumbled, both hearing the cold snap in his tone. “ _I_ have. He’s telling the truth. He could very well be the Chosen One. I’m sure of it.”

Tahl threw her hands up, soup forgotten, “Oh yes, cause you were so sure that Anakin was perfectly sound to help us against the slavers. Remember, Qui-Gon, _remember_ , that Obi-Wan is now in the hands of slavers and it is because Anakin left him alone. I don’t care how powerful he is, or whether he is the ‘Chosen One’ or not, he’s still got a brain that sits in a skull and that brain isn’t healthy! That brain is still capable of making stupid and dangerous decisions. In fact, I’m inclined to be _more_ concerned if someone with decision habits like that contains as much power as you claim.”

“You’re not being fair,” Qui-Gon argued. “You’ve already decided to distrust Anakin and paint everything he does as failure –”

Tahl scoffed, “–Are we really having this discussion again?”

“–You do this Xanatos too!” Qui-Gon barked. “You’re much too concerned with the future, what could happen, rather than paying attention to what is happening now. For all your worry about what Anakin or Xanatos might do, you’re not doing much to talk to them and actually prevent that from happening. Instead, you’re simply keeping me on a leash and –”

“–Alright, I’m done,” Tahl shoved her soup aside and got up.

“Tahl –!”

“–I’m not interested discussing such trivial topics,” Tahl replied spitefully. She called upon the Force to surround her in a cocoon of comfort and ease the overwhelming emotions away. Behind her, she heard Qui-Gon bitterly muttering to himself.

Tahl was about to leave the cafeteria when a green Twi’lek greeted her.

“Um, Master Jedi,” the second-in-command, Lanett, squeaked. “The Captain would like to speak to you. Both of you at the bridge.”

Tahl’s face transformed into a mask of indifference and nodded, “I’ll make my way there now. Please pass the message to Master Jinn. Do be mindful when approaching him. He has a sabre up his arse.”

~o0o~

Being the second-in-command to a crew of slavers was not all that it cracked up to be. Tai-Ro would have liked to have simply returned to his quarters and read a holobook. However, that was a luxury for the boss and so here Tai-Ro was counting the number of personnel on board and noting those who didn’t make it. He clicked his tongue when the losses were higher than usual. It also didn’t help to learn that a certain female Zygerrian was nowhere to be seen. The boss was not going to be happy. Tai-Ro moved beyond the room scarred with lightsabre marks and towards the boss’ quarters. The only hope Tai-Ro had of leaving the meeting with his fur intact was the highly successful capture of many Force sensitives and so banked all his luck on misery of the younglings before entering.

Inside, Nuro Narrin was pocketing a commlink and grumbling to himself. A curse word flashed across Tai-Ro’s mind as he ponders how to best approach an already irritated boss. Narrin was never the type to be ignored so Tai-Ro began carefully, “Something to matter?”

Narrin scoffed loudly. He shoved open a draw and searched for an item inside. He said gruffly, “Here I was, thinking this deal was going to be simple. Quiet. With no interference. But no. He’s has to…” He sighed roughly.

“…are you referring to our providers or patron?”

Narrin turned to Tai-Ro with a collar tangled in his paws. His whiskers twitched as he snarled, “The Trade Federation wouldn’t dare cause trouble to us. Not with our supporter. They’re a bunch of cowards. But rich cowards. Got to give ‘em credit where credit’s due. These collars. Work like a charm they do. Never thought I’d see the day the Jedi could be blocked from the Force.” Narrin twirled the collar around.

Tai-Ro answered with a mild tone, “So what is the prob –?”

He was interrupted when a baby began to cry. Tai-Ro followed the noise and noticed a bundle of clothing in a dark corner of the room. He could just make out the shadow of a small restless being.

Narrin jabbed his finger towards the baby’s direction, “That’s the problem. Force sensitive _and_ red hair. Alone, those features would buy someone a mansion if you found someone desperate enough. I know plenty of Hutts that find red-heads appealing and appropriate for their _market_. But together?” Narrin huffed out a laugh. “I’d be rolling in credits. That brat’s worth a bunch! And I can’t sell the little bugger.” At that, Narrin slammed a fist into the wall.

Tai-Ro frowned at the proclamation. “Did our patron –?”

“–Our patron wants the brat,” Narrin explained further. “And I can’t say no. I mean, look what happened to the last boss.” Both Zygerrians recalled the moment years ago when a dark and dangerous stranger approached their group and offered a deal to their boss, a female Zygerrian who decorated herself with jewellery across the galaxy. She had looked splendid with rubies dancing around her neck. To Narrin, it was even better when those very rubies choked the life out of her and he was given the status of boss instead.

Tai-Ro folded his arms, “Perhaps our patron will reward you well in return.”

“I can only hope,” Narrin replied bitingly.

An awkward silence settled and Tai-Ro came to the unhappy conclusion that at some point he was going to have to deliver more unfortunate news. Taking the plunge, Tai-Ro said carefully, “Sir, I understand you’re not in the best of moods. However, I regret to inform you that your daughter is among those missing.”

“I know,” Narrin answered shortly. He continued to toy with the collar and strolled towards the crying baby. “When we jumped to hyperspace, I felt it. Still alive though.”

“She’ll aid the Jedi to our location,” Tai-Ro claimed. Just as the boss was about to answer Tai-Ro compelled himself to add firmly, “At the very least she’ll lead them to the Pilga System. We shouldn’t’ doubt the power of the Jedi. I’m sure they’ll find us quickly.”

“We should prepare dinner then,” Narrin answered calmly. “If they want to chat, we’ll give them plenty to talk about. Just as long as they don’t find the younglings, what does it matter to me? They bring Kida to me, and I get my daughter back. It’s a win-win regardless. In the meantime, I want my slaves ready. The Hutt I have contacted has little care for slavers with a rebellious streak. Gardulla wants her slavers broken.”

Tai-Ro nodded again. So much for an easy night with a holobook. Now there was more work to do. He watched as the boss picked up the expensive baby. The youngling was squirming but yelped when Narrin dug his claws into soft chubby skin. Narrin wrapped the collar around the baby’s neck. With a click, the collar was on and activated. Immediately, the baby silenced and his stormy blue eyes darted around the room as though searching for something or someone. When unsuccessful, the baby shut his eyes and whimpered softly. Satisfied Narrin left his quarters with the subdued baby in his arms.

Tai-Ro observed the boss as he left. Yes, being second-in-command wasn’t the greatest job in the world but it certainly allowed information to be passed with ease. Nuro Narrin may be tied to their patron and obligated to give the baby to ensure his heart kept on beating. But Tai-Ro certainly wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, can I straight up admit that I have a massive crush on John Boyega? He is seriously one of the most gorgeous men alive.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. Welcome back to another chapter. Sorry for the lack of Xanatos, Shmi and Obi-Wan in this chapter. They'll return next time. And who knows when that will happen since I have no regular update schedule.  
> Thanks as always to those who read, gives kudos and comments. Love you all!

_It was raining outside. How unusual. Anakin drew closer to the windows and observed the thousands of city lights outside. They were so much like stars in space. During terrible days when a tool was misplaced or a customer unhappy, and a misbehaving slave received the hard swipes of a whip, Anakin would lose himself to the dreams of escaping the borders of Tatooine and seeing everything the galaxy had to offer. Yet he had never imagined that the vast and complex and dense city of Coruscant would ever be witnessed by his very eyes. It all just felt so far, far away._

_Anakin turned around to the apartment. Both good and bad memories were nestled between these walls. Some days, the young Padawan would return from class showing off high results from a tough exam. The master would cook up a meal that night, following a recipe closely, and the two would let time slip by and simply chat about whatever came to mind. Other days, the master would be waiting with a tapping foot and folded arms, no doubt having just read a message sent from a disapproving teacher. Voices rang loud and harsh words crossed lines and no one would have dinner that night._

_Anakin pulled out a chair at the small table that sat between the kitchen and the living space. Looking straight ahead down a corridor he could see the doors to the fresher and bedrooms. Anakin considered going to his room but found himself staying where he was. It had been a long time since he last saw this place. Might as well reacquaint himself._

_The more Anakin looked the more his eyebrows furrowed. Those were not the same holobooks Obi-Wan stored in the bookcase. Those numerous potted plants were definitely not the property of Obi-Wan. The man could barely stand dirt and greenery at the best of times. A small display in the middle of the table was the most concerning however. Usually it was empty but now, there was a bowel shaped like cusped hands carrying a bundle of pebbles and coloured rocks. Anakin wondered if perhaps he had been mistaken. Had he walked in on another Jedi team’s apartment, maybe the one right next door? That answer did not sit right though._

_Puzzled and with an annoying tug at the back of his mind, Anakin was about to get up when the door to his bedroom flew open. Anakin froze and waited. A boy stumbled out of the room, nearly slamming into the opposite door, but pushed off with his palms. The boy dashed into the kitchen without noticing Anakin which didn’t make sense since Anakin was right in his line of sight. He could hear the clatter of plates and cutlery, and soon the smell of breakfast cooking wafted in the air. A joined cracked when Anakin finally moved. He cautiously got up and moved to the edges of the kitchen._

_The boy was rushing from one end of the kitchen to the other. A hue of pink dusted his cheeks and enhanced the freckles dotting his face. He inspected the eggs sizzling away, gave a single satisfied nod before clicking on a kettle. As it boiled the boy collected two cups and then gave a cupboard a long hard look. Inside Anakin could see dozens upon dozens of teas leaves and bags from across the galaxy. A part of Anakin wished he didn’t know which systems certain leaves came from; he had his master to thank for that. Soon enough, the boy made his decision. The kettle was ready and boiled water fused with the teabags. Anakin had to stop himself from reaching and taking one of the cups. He had almost forgotten this wasn’t a typical morning at the Temple where his master would ready two cups of tea for the both of them to start off the day._

_Once the tea was set, the boy raced ahead. Anakin tried to move out of the way in time but a collision still occurred…_

_…as footsteps sounded behind him Anakin realised that ‘collision’ was not the correct word. The boy had faded right through him as though Anakin was little more than air. Anakin patted his stomach and felt along his limbs, tracing the surface of his mechanical hand. Anakin was no Force-ghost, as far as he could tell. The tug in his mind pulled harder and started to hurt._

_Anakin followed the boy and saw him knocking at a door._

_“Master?” the boy said, his voice quiet and timid. “I –uh –breakfast is prepared. And tea.”_

_There was shuffling behind the door. The master’s voice called from inside, “Yes, thank you. I’m getting up.” He sounded slightly annoyed but Anakin recognised it anyway as the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn. Intrigued, Anakin stepped closer._

_The boy chewed his bottom lip then went back to the table. He set up placemats, plates and cutlery. All the while Anakin’s eyes followed Qui-Gon Jinn as the master went back and forth between his bedroom and fresher, forgetting and then remembering slippers and dressing gown. The third time Qui-Gon cleared his throat and said, “Padawan, I received a message from one of your teachers yesterday evening. I hope you have enough time this morning to discuss that dismal grade for your latest assessment on engineering.”_

_The boy froze. Anakin shared the feeling. He recalled all too well the awful feeling of disappointment that failing assignments brought. Anakin considered speaking up and perhaps reaching the boy somehow through the Force. Instead, all the boy got was Qui-Gon’s voice ringing from the fresher, “Obi-Wan? Did you hear me?”_

_Anakin felt like he had been shocked with Sidious’ lightning. He gazed with wonder at the small boy called Obi-Wan. The child’s hand hovered over the teacups and Anakin could see they were shaking. A quiet squeak emitted from young Obi-Wan but nothing else came. The tiny braid dangled when the boy turned back to his master’s direction and tried again to speak. Nothing. Anakin slowly reached out but his hand faded through his young master’s body._

_And then Obi-Wan ran._

_The Padawan placed the teacup down, grabbed his books, and bolted out of the apartment. Anakin gaped. It didn’t take long for Qui-Gon to emerge from the fresher looking puzzled. The master inspected the room before saying, “…Padawan? Obi-Wan?!”_

_When no one answered, Qui-Gon opened the door to Obi-Wan’s room and found nothing. The rain outside pelted harder against the wide windows. Anakin trailed after Qui-Gon as the master called for his Padawan in utter confusion, checking outside the apartment. “Obi-Wan? Where are you?” the master muttered under his breath as he brought out his commlink._

_As he connected to someone on the other end Qui-Gon’s voice echoed and softened. Anakin strained his ears but sound only scuttled further and further away. Along with the smell of breakfast and the warmth of the apartment. Colour drained and the image fuzzed away. “Obi-Wan! Where are you?” was the last Anakin heard…_

~o0o~

…Before he woke up.

Anakin made an unpleasant snort as he was abruptly pulled from his nap by someone repeatedly calling him ‘sir.’ A fuzzy green monster was bending down at eye level. The image cleared and revealed an anxious Twi’lek. She exhaled with relief and got up, “Sir, my apologies for waking you from your –um –nap. But the Captain has requested all Jedi to attend a meeting taking place soon. I can give you the details for the meeting so um–”

Anakin cracked his neck and shoulders. He berated himself for dozing off in the corridors where the ground and walls were solid and cold. Shivering, Anakin got up with a groan and listened with a bored expression as the Twi’lek used a thousand words to tell him the location and time the meeting was being held. Before she could prattle on about who knows what, Anakin interrupted her and muttered about going there already before swivelling around and walking ahead. The Twi’lek stammered but managed to say, “You’re going the wrong way.”

Feeling hot with embarrassment, Anakin tried to play it cool as though his direction was intentional “I was _going_ check up on my droid. Before going the meeting.”

“But –uh sir, the meeting starts in a few minutes,” the Twi’lek said meekly. “I told you that, didn’t I?”

Anakin stared at her for a second. The Twi’lek looked ready to burst with anxiety.

“No.”

“No?” the Twi’lek repeated, perplexed.

Anakin shrugged his shoulders, “ _No._ You didn’t tell me the time.”

“B-but I _swear_ I did.”

Anakin pattered her on the shoulder, “Maybe next time.” Then he marched on ahead, hiding the grimace plaguing his face, and cursing at his stupidity. He heard the Twi’lek mumble something to herself and considered maybe his ego could handle admitting his own fault. But then Anakin waved that away and rushed along towards the meeting room. Upon entering he learnt he was the first to arrive. Huffing he realised he could very well have gone to B3-S2 first and not made such a fool of himself and the Twi’lek.

Nothing else to do now but sit and wait. Anakin found a soft chair and used his feet to rotate it around. It reminded Anakin of spinning his ships like it was a roller-coaster from when he was child, through the Clone Wars and even as Vader. Darth Sidious had a thing or two to say about the etiquette of the Sith and how childish behaviour was un-becoming of one such as the Empire’s Iron Fist. But never the one to follow the rules, Vader went back to spinning around in the TIE fighter and had a brief thought of Luke possibly entertaining himself the same way. Thinking of Sidious’ response though dampened Anakin’s mood as he compared the Sith to his mask, Senator Palpatine. All throughout his padawanship and early knighthood, Palpatine had been a mentor, a guide, a grandfather-like figure who encouraged and promoted Anakin and his emotional wellbeing. He had cheered Anakin on to do the most reckless things that would give Obi-Wan a heart attack. And whenever Obi-Wan had banned Anakin from anything fun, Palpatine would grant Anakin the opportunity to disobey in secret. Well, it might have been secret but in the few times Obi-Wan and Palpatine were in the same room, Obi-wan always looked at him with an emotionless mask but with an undercurrent of annoyance bristling in the bond. Palpatine had subtly expressed his dislike for the Negotiator as well by pointing out everything that slightly went wrong in Obi-Wan’s otherwise successful campaigns. The two never blew up at each other but Anakin does remember a point where Palpatine asked Obi-Wan with, what Anakin now realised, a mocking tone if the man could offer any information about a planet called Bandomeer and the Agri-corps. Obi-Wan had stiffened, mentioned other duties that needed to be attended to, and that there were far more informed experts to ask that about, before grabbing Anakin’s hand and leaving the vicinity in a rush. Anakin never got an answer out of Obi-Wan over what that was about, and Sidious had never explained it to Vader either. With the Sith, it was most likely because Vader had already fallen to the Dark Side and there was little need to convince him to hate Kenobi’s guts anymore so. Being barbequed medium rare does that to people. However, with Obi-Wan, the man had never been the one to say _anything_ about his past or his emotions. Obi-Wan would simply run.

Anakin thought of the little boy that was Obi-Wan. A curiosity streak in Anakin wanted to investigate and find out why he was capable of watching such a vision when he had never even seen a picture of his master under the age of twenty-five. Yet another part of him chalked this scenario up to an additional quirk of being the so-called Chosen One. An exceptionally high midi-chlorian count could let Anakin walk along some pretty beach and check out, what he assumed, were old memories of his long-dead-personally-killed-him-himself master. Anakin bitterly concluded that regardless of all the fancy powers his midi-chlorian count gave him, what use was it when he failed to save young Obi-Wan from the slavers, Ahsoka from corruption in the justice system, and most importantly Padmé and his mother from death. As the doors to the meeting room and Masters Tahl and Qui-Gon strolled through, Anakin tossed the issue of his midi-chlorians aside to focus on what truly mattered to him at the moment: saving Shmi and Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon and Tahl immediately separated from each other upon entering. Tahl moved to the window while Qui-Gon flashed Anakin a small smile and sat in a chair close by. Much to Anakin’s puzzlement, there was a deafening and uncomfortable silence. The kind of silence was familiar and reminded Anakin of the times he and Obi-Wan had argued intensely during the Clone Wars. It brightened Anakin’s mood when this also brought back many memories of Ahsoka and the clones working together to get their generals to talk it out and apologise. One time both of them were locked in a fresher for a whole night before finally deciding to even make eye contact. Of course, Anakin had completely embraced the bratty nature of it all while Obi-Wan convinced no one that he wasn’t bothered and simply had more important things to focus on. Anakin wondered if there was a fresher nearby he could lock the two Jedi away for a few hours. And then he wondered whether either of the Jedi were going to mention the giant bantha in the room… Tahl side eyed Anakin but when he caught her, she glanced elsewhere. It didn’t take a genius to figure Qui-Gon had most likely spilled the beans and informed Tahl of many ‘fun facts’ about Anakin.

Anakin was about to get up and teach Qui-Gon what it feels like to have his lips glued together and possibly learn to keep his mouth shut, when Captain Calrissian, her second-in-command and a group of officers entered. A faint chatter buzzed from the group. Calrissian was muttering words to the Twi’lek as she hastily scribbled everything down. Once the Twi’lek had finished, Calrissian placed her palms on a centre table and said, “Greetings, I trust all of you have received necessary medical attention?”

There was a chorus of affirmatives. Calrissian nodded before inviting people to ask any questions on the current situation. An older experienced Mon’ Calamari raised his hand and asked gruffly, “Have the reports of the ship’s state been completed and sent your way, Captain?”

Calrissian shook her head. “Not yet. I have yet to learn the details but more problems in the civilian section has been discovered. After this meeting, I’ll be making my way over there. You are welcomed to join me Lieutenant Mirn.” The Mon’ Calamari thanked his Captain.

Another officer made an inquiry. “May I request an update on the negotiations with Captain Piers?”

Calrissian was about to answer when she noticed a few members in the room were unacquainted with the named individual. Anakin being among them. Calrissian clarified, “For those who don’t know, Morri Piers is the captain of the supply ship that answered our distress beacon. His crew has been a great help to our recovery. Unfortunately, he doesn’t share our belief that chasing after the slavers immediately is the best course of action. Piers recommended the Senate’s involvement.”

As Anakin snorted many joined him. Some muttered the utter uselessness of the Senate, many snidely adding that the children would have lived a hard life in slavery and be long dead by the time the Senate finished debating. Others reminded everyone that the slave industry retreated to areas beyond Republic space so the Senate had little power even if they responded quickly. Some individuals however were visibly uncomfortable with such harsh dialogue on the Republic’s system of governance being tossed about the room is such casual fashion. A few even requested the Captain to give a proper explanation behind her rejection of Piers’ offer. Calrissian, in her everlasting pursuit to achieve respect by all parties by providing it first, replied, “I’m not saying that the Senate is worthless but they’re methods are simply not fast enough to save these children. The slave industry acts fast. There is never enough supply to match the demand, so they make credits faster than the Senate can make a decision. If our children are sold, we lose them. They’re lost to Hutt Space and it is near impossible to ever find them again. A report was recently released that only 0.02% of all sold slaves in Hutt Space are found and brought home. We _do not_ have time to waste. And if the Senate or the Jedi Order have a problem with our actions, then that’s their problem.”

Confidence, loyalty and commitment ignited the room. Calrissian’s officers looked ready for action no matter what the Republic thought. Calrissian tried to withhold a grin but found she couldn’t ignore the positive attitudes warming the chilling feeling that had frozen in her chest upon her initial failure. She patted Lanett on the shoulder and held up a palm to quiet down the crowd. Once her voice could be heard she announced, “Captain Piers has kindly offered to deliver our remaining civilians to Alderaan. The last thing I want is to lose more people. Therefore, I want this message to reach the barracks: all crewmembers are welcome to board Piers’ ship rather than join the fight against the slavers. I hold no grudge. These are dangerous people who are willing to make a credit at whatever cost, even stealing those separated from the group.”

Anakin was dumb-struck by the Captain. From her ability to instil courage, to her acceptance of those too naïve and inexperienced to go, Anakin reckoned she would have been an exceptional general in the Clone Wars. She would have had to wrestle hard with the clones who, even with broken bones and head injuries, saw it their duty to get up and keep on fighting. Even past the point where their Jedi generals were calling for a retreat. Anakin never admitted it himself, since Jedi don’t acknowledge their emotions, but he thoroughly wished multiple times during his Jedi days to not go on a dangerous mission due to his fears. Of course, he was sent regardless and then Obi-Wan and others wondered why he performed such crazy stunts. He was already in a near-death situation; how much worse could it possibly be? It was either allowing something that would 100% kill him or do something to prevent it that had an 86% chance of killing him.

Anakin’s musings were cut short when Captain Calrissian launched into the details of the situation. The interrogation between herself, the Jedi and the captured Zygerrian led to important but limited information. Apparently, this girl was named Kida and the daughter of the slavers’ leader. Anakin’s disgust with slavers blinded him to this advantage at first but the crewmembers and the Captain were quick to discuss how she could be used as a bargaining tool. With a huff, Anakin silently admitted that maybe having this worthless scum around was useful to them. Both Anakin and Vader always hated relying on people they despised. What soon followed the mention of this Zygerrian was the location of the slavers: the Pilga System located on the border between Hutt and Republic Space. This had heads turning, wondering how a ship and company such as theirs was able to traverse through Republic grounds with such ease. Someone remarked that the whole thing smelt like Mon’ Calamari to which the present Mon’ Calamari lieutenant took great offence. As apologies were shared, Calrissian continued her lecture by stating that there were five planets in the system, all of which held a base for the slavers to escape to. Yet only one was ever in use and unfortunately the captured Zygerrian was too low among their ranks to be shared such vital information. Members of the crew grumbled, some whispering that the Zygerrian was obviously lying and other methods should be used to get what is required out of her.

Master Qui-Gon stepped forward. “Once we enter the Pilga System, I can contact and locate my Padawan through our bond in the Force.” The non-Force users stared so Qui-Gon continued, “There is no need to worry yourselves. Leave the location of the slavers’ base up to me.”

Only once the Captain approved did the rest of the crew agree. Calrissian lifted her chin as she said sternly, “Keep me updated.” Calrissian ended the meeting and ordered for the organising and process of transferring the civilians to Piers’ ship to begin immediately. “Once settled we’ll make a jump to hyperspace. Get to it.”

Before any of the three Force users could remove themselves from the room Calrissian ordered them to stay. As crewmembers shuffled away, the Mon’ Calamari briefly met Qui-Gon’s eyes and gave the Jedi a respectful nod. Qui-Gon returned the favour. Calrissian ignored the footsteps and mumbling behind her as she said to her Force users, “Get your thinking caps on. I want ideas on how we’re going to take on these slavers before the next meeting is held. Understood?”

All three nodded. Anakin barely contained a smirk at the thought of anyone here performing one of his crazy plans. To be fair on himself, they had a tendency to work. With that thought Anakin leaned forward and spoke up, much to the surprise of the Captain. “Got any limits?”

Behind the Captain, Tahl’s face hardened as she stared at Anakin suspiciously. Calrissian replied carefully, “I’d say ‘whatever it takes’ but as I said, I don’t aim to lose any more people. If you got risky stunts to pull, then be my guest. Just keep my crewmembers out of it.”

Anakin chewed his bottom lip. Qui-Gon hummed thoughtfully, “That’s not a bad thought. Us Jedi are better suited for high risk situations, especially since the leader of this group if also Force sensitive. If that is what is required in order to make a plan work, then we’ll do our duty as Jedi.”

Tahl stepped forward with a sigh. “With restraint, _please_. We’re useless to the Captain if we fling ourselves into danger. We’ll figure out the best means possible in saving the children _and_ ensuring we all make it out.”

The uncomfortable feeling from before crept its way into the conversation. Anakin stared at his twiddling thumbs as Qui-Gon glowered at Tahl. “I highly doubt we’ll be fortunate enough to be graced with a simple easy mission. We should be ready and accepting that we’ll be in the line of fire.”

Tahl replied sarcastically, “Whatever happened to living in the moment, Master Jinn? We don’t always have to play the big and powerful hero. If there is a safer way of rescuing these children, such as securing a map of their base and sneaking in and out with the children without being noticed during the night, then there will be no need to re-enact a space opera.”

Before Qui-Gon could snap, the Captain cut in loudly, “Alright, alright. I’ll keep _both_ your opinions in mind, thank you.”

“Pleasure,” Qui-Gon mumbled before dismissing himself from the room.

As the door shut, Calrissian turned to Tahl and said, “Trouble in paradise?”

Tahl shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, even if it’s from himself, the fool.” The Jedi turned back around to look out the window again. Tahl had often retreated to the rich vastness of space to aid her in the past. It was as though the icy temperature of space helped to freeze the snowy mountain that was her Force landscape. She concentrated on the window firmly, only hearing Calrissian close the door to know the captain had left. What she hadn’t counted on was a certain someone to stay behind.

Almost pleading for the Force to clear her thoughts, Tahl turned to Anakin and immediately baulked at the odd look he was giving her. Tahl awkwardly muttered, “Yes? Can I help you?”

This seemed to awaken Anakin from his staring. He blinked back into focus and stood up, stretching his fingers which only produced strange squeaky noises from the leather gloves. This ruination of the stern and solemn mood would normally have Tahl smirking but she wasn’t having it today. Against all her Jedi teachings, she couldn’t help but link every problem she was experiencing with Qui-Gon to the young man standing so stupid-looking in front of her. He just had to start this whole mess and drag others down with him. Tahl brushed stray strands of hair away from her face and said, “Anakin, was it? Skywalker? If you got nothing important to say than –”

“–I know what you’re trying to do.”

Tahl frowned again at the statement and the body language supporting it. Anakin was standing straight and tall, his arms crossed and his face firm. What stuck out the most for Tahl was the way his eyes had darkened with experience far beyond his years. Tahl thought back to Qui-Gon’s claims on Anakin’s identity and had to violently dash them away. “I don’t understand,” Tahl admitted.

“I know – I mean… I understand what it’s like, to desperately want to keep someone you love safe.” Anakin may be stammering but by the sound of his voice and the expression he wore, his claim was made with a deep conviction Tahl rarely saw. Anakin took a deep breath and added, “But you can’t, I mean, things don’t always …”

“Look, Skywalker,” Tahl said tiredly. “As a Jedi, I don’t fall into the traps of attachment. I will do what I can to help Master Jinn for the sake of the mission. Nothing more.”

“As a Jedi, you’re not supposed to lie either.”

Tahl flinched and glared at the young man. “Lie?”

Anakin nodded determinedly, “Yes. Let’s not pretend Qui-Gon is just another Jedi for you. It won’t work on me, cause I’m the same as you. Despite _every_ lie I told myself, I couldn’t stop my attachments –”

“–I _do not_ have attachments,” Tahl snapped, aghast but it was difficult to determine at who though. “That is not the Jedi way –”

“–Be a Jedi if that’s what you really want to be,” Anakin said. “All I’m trying to say is, I’ve been in your situation and until you actually address your attachments, then you run the risk of–”

“–Of what?”

“Of doing everything you can to keep those you love safe. And I mean _everything._ ”

One could hear a credit drop. The silence felt as indefinite as the sands of Tatooine. For the first time, the silence did not bring any comfort to Tahl’s Force mountain. It wasn’t the silence of lacking human activity, it was a silence of utter lifelessness. Tahl swallowed thickly and gathered all her Force ability to keep looking directly at the young man in front of her. The young man who, from the perspective of their Force sensitivity, felt as though he was speaking on behalf of everyone that had ever experienced anything and trying to teach it to a single youngling.

The spell broke.

A crewmember had thrown open the door. The Captain was requesting both their presence.

At the back of the line, Tahl observed the young man in front of her. With the crewmember far enough away, Tahl whispered, “Are you really from the future?”

Anakin didn’t even turn to her when he answered, “Yes.”

Tahl ceased walking and allowed the gap between her and the stranger to grow.

Loud footsteps sounded against the floor when Captain Calrissian and Qui-Gon Jinn flew into the room. Calrissian’s face was hard and sharpened, while Qui-Gon was almost white with wide eyes. Both looked horrified and both directed it at Anakin. Tahl watched as Qui-Gon approached Anakin, all the warmth he had held for Skywalker completely gone in such a drastic way it was like a drought had destroyed a rainforest. Anakin saw it too but had little understanding as to why, so he hunched and waited.

Qui-Gon held out a palm. “Return my padawan’s lightsabre. You are never to wield it again.”

Anakin stopped breathing momentarily. When he handed the lightsabre over, his returning breaths felt tight and constricted. His eyes darted back and forth between Qui-Gon and Calrissian. “I…what? What did I do?”

Qui-Gon ignored him, burying his padawan’s lightsabre deep in his robes. Calrissian gladly answered, “What did you do? I just got my report on the civilian quarters. They found bodies. Bodies torn to shreds, _slaughtered_ where they stood, some left to agonising pain before they died. You want to explain to me why you felt the need to utterly decimate those Zygerrians?”

Tahl’s mouth slowly dropped. Anakin realised what was happening. He felt anger boil as he replied shakily, “Who _cares_? They were slavers. What does it matter? You probably killed some yourself –”

“–There. Is. A. Limit,” Calrissian barked. “And you crossed it! Tell me, if I anger you enough, should I expect to find myself cut in two? The split between my eyeballs? …Well?!”

“…I…I don’t –”

“–Skywalker,” Qui-Gon said coldly. Anakin wished to never hear the man use his last name again. “You intended to inflict as much pain and agony as you could. And you delivered, with my padawan’s lightsabre. You besmirched an extension of Xanatos.”

Anakin had no more words to say.

And the conversation was finalised when Calrissian ordered, “You have no part to play in our mission. You’re to board the ship to Alderaan.”

~o0o~

 

When Anakin sat down and thought about it, it wasn’t often he received praise.

Shmi had said he was a wonderful son.

Obi-Wan had said he was a loyal brother

Ahsoka had said he was a reliable master.

Padmé had said he was a loving husband.

When Anakin said down and thought further, he wondered what they would all say now.

Until he remembered with great and morose clarity that Sidious had said he was an obedient Sith. And Anakin concluded that it was the only praise he had ever lived up to.

~o0o~

Dropping off at the medical bay was only meant to be short visit for Anakin. He had injuries that needed bacta patches applied and maybe a part of him hoped there was drug to cure away a terrible numbing feeling in his chest. It had encased his heart then transferred along his torso and crept up his neck. Driving him insane though was the heated debate in his head: one side demanding to dismiss the others and join the crusade against the slavers anyway. However, the other side reminded him that his involvement would probably makes things worse. But how then, was he supposed to bring Obi-Wan to Stewjon and save him from the Order’s indoctrination? But perhaps Obi-Wan would live just fine so long as he never crossed paths with Anakin…

Anakin slid to the floor and buried his head in his hands. The mere thought of separating himself from Obi-Wan was agonising and as far as he was concerned, not worth visiting again. Anakin left the security of his hands and leaned his head back against the cold wall. He could smell the oily scent of bacta in the air meaning someone had received medical attention recently. In hopes of finding staff on hand, Anakin followed the smell. There was no doctor or nurse on duty. Instead, Anakin found a family of three.

A teenage girl was lying in bed, her left leg cocooned in a cast. Her mother and father were seated by her side, the former holding her daughter’s hand and the latter brushing hair out of her teary eyes. Anakin backed away without being noticed but hung close by for one reason and one reason only: it was his family. The whimpering voice of the girl, his _aunt_ , said wetly, “But how…? We can’t just leave. We –we got to help Shmi.”

Anakin’s heart clenched.

His grandfather’s sigh shuddered and his grandmother replied softly, “Darling, there’s only so much we can do. If that means … _waiting_ for her and letting the crew and the Jedi do their job, then that’s what we must do.”

Neither Anakin nor his aunt were satisfied with the answer.

“Mum? Dad?”

“Yes, Milli?”

“…those slavers, they won’t –I mean, they can’t…” the girl inhaled slowly and deeply, sniffling before saying, “The Jedi will bring her back…right? We’ll see Shmi again?”

_No._

“Yes.”

“Of course, we will.”

_No, you won’t._

Anakin no longer saw the medical bay but the harsh sands of Tatooine. No longer heard his family but shallow pained breaths. No longer felt the cold walls but dried blood, mattered hair and rough skin of a tortured body. Anakin wasn’t on the ship anymore but back in the camps of the Tuskan Raiders, clutching the dying body of his mother. Recalling with unrelenting clarity the way Shmi’s eyes had brightened with the intensity of a sun at the sight of her grown up boy, and then dimmed until death took her.

The scene eventually dissolved away like sand brushed by sea breeze as medical staff organised their patients around him. The evacuation was underway. He saw his grandparents and nurses navigating the gurney his aunt Milli was lying on out of the medical bay. Anakin left the hallways with a spark of determination warming his soul. He didn’t give a kriff what Qui-Gon or the Captain or anyone thought, he was going to save Shmi Skywalker and return her home. It wasn’t difficult to stay on board with everyone distracted with their own tasks. Anakin supposed Calrissian and Jinn had thought guilt would force him to do as he was told. How quickly Obi-Wan had learnt that didn’t work in the slightest. Instead, the guilt only added fuel to the fire.

The ships separated and both jumped to hyperspace to reach their respective destinations. Time passed and Anakin admitted that the beds provided in the cabin rooms are fairly comfy. When the ship finally arrived at the Pilga System, Anakin was already on his way to make a grand entrance at the bridge. But he stopped. He still couldn’t feel Obi-Wan through the bond. Although concerned, Anakin had crossed this emptiness before. It wasn’t one caused by death or long distance but still impactful. Upon entering the bridge, Anakin saw Qui-Gon, Tahl and the Captain deep in a furious discussion. Both Jedi looked pale but Qui-Gon especially so, distraught wrecking his features.  

“What do you mean you can’t feel him through the bond?” Calrissian snapped impatiently.

Qui-Gon was unable to answer in his distress. Tahl stepped forward, “We… don’t understand it ourselves. If the Padawan had died, Jinn would have felt it no matter the distance. So, for the Padawan to completely disappear through the bond is… we just – just don’t know.”

Calrissian rubbed her temples. “Alright, alright. If this is the case, then what? How are we meant to locate the children?” Neither Jedi could even look at the captain. “Surely there is a way around this?”

Tahl folded her arms close to her chest. “Perhaps but I work in the Temple Archives, Captain, and I have _never_ heard of such an occurrence and –” It is then Tahl’s bark brown eyes land on Anakin. They widen and cause her companions to inspect him as well.

Anakin ignored the hostility from the group and strode right in. “Well _I_ have. It’s a Force collar.”

Calrissian frowned at the unfamiliar term and Qui-Gon’s unfriendly expression didn’t alter. Tahl voiced their thoughts, a gleam of curiosity now sparkling in her eyes. “A Force collar? What is it?”

“It’s a collar specifically designed to block the user’s connection to the Force,” Anakin explained, transported back to his general days when he commanded authority simply by marching into a room with a lightsabre attached to his belt. “It was funded by the Trade Federation and –”

“– _STOP!_ ”

The shout made everyone, from the Force sensitives to a low rank officer, jump. It came from a young Zygerrian woman. Her wrists were cuffed and linked to a chair she was seated on. She was surrounded by officers who either looked outraged or humiliated with her behaviour. However, even when one of them pressed a firm hand on her shoulder, the Zygerrian exclaimed in disbelief, “ _How_ do you know this?! _No one_ is supposed to know!”

Anakin didn’t have a care in the world for this slaver so he only mocked her with a half-hearted shrug. Calrissian’s weapons clunked loudly as she stalked towards Kida. “Do tell, princess, I’m sure you have much to discuss with everyone. Since when was there a partnership between the Trade Federation and slavers?” Kida fumed and kept her mouth shut.

Tahl thought aloud. “The Trade Federations has a long history of corruption. It wouldn’t surprise anyone if they stoop this low.”

The Mon’ Calamari, Lieutenant Mirn, chuckled bitterly. “Just wait, those scoundrels will invade a planet one day.” Many of the crewmembers murmured in agreement.

The chatter trailed off when Qui-Gon Jinn sighed roughly and said bitingly, “Yes, thank you Skywalker, for your input. Perhaps you can offer an answer to our predicament: how are we supposed to locate the children now?”

Anakin felt everyone’s gaze but unfortunately could only answer, “I don’t know. Yet.”

“Then _why_ are you here?” Qui-Gon pressed coldly.

“Qui-Gon!” Tahl hissed.

Anakin huffed, jabbing a finger at Qui-Gon’s direction and declared, “Because I got people to save and your whining is hardly going to stop me!”

“ _Whining_!?” Qui-Gon repeated in furious dismay.

“Stop, enough!” Tahl flung herself between the pair. Around her, Tahl could feel the crew’s growing disbelief in the Jedi as useful assets in the mission. The Captain too wavered between loyalty and concern.

“Captain!” Lenett piped up, diffusing the scene. She ran into the centre of the room pocketing a commlink. Excitement radiated off her. “I just got word from the droid repair workshop. A droid has rebooted and claims to know the location of the children!”

As the room erupted around him, Anakin knew he didn’t even need to ask who it was.

~o0o~

Back at the ship’s workshop, B3-S2 was busy taking advantage of all the attention it was receiving. It quite enjoyed getting everything it requested without question. It figured it should leave tracking devices on babies more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the bowl of rocks and pebbles comes from a fanfic that I really love. It’s called "Shadows of the Future" by Stormqueen873, where it is an important part of the Jinn/Kenobi quarters. I love the idea (and the fic) a lot so I thought why not, and included it. IT IS GREAT! READ IT!  
> I was looking through the list of people who have given my fic kudos and you know, I look at some of the people liking my stuff and I see the great works they’ve done and I’m thinking to myself, “No wait, shit, I’m not worthy!”  
>  


	12. Chapter 12

<And if you could get me a bag of bolts that would be much appreciated> B3-S2 said lazily, casually waving its hand to shoo the human away.

Said human however hovered close by with a nervous frown. “A bag of bolts…sir?”

Sir? B3-S2 liked that. <Yes. Mechanical bolts. Good for iron intake. Hop to it.>

Still looking puzzled, the poor human had no choice but to turn around and find an answer to their problem elsewhere. <No, no!> the droid cried. <I said ‘hop’ to it. Not lumber like a Hutt. Hop now, hop!>

Anakin made his presence known as the low-ranking officer hopped out of sight. B3-S2 took notice of its new company but only got more comfortable in its pod. Wires were attached to every port on its body and pumping energy into it. Any dented and ruined parts had been replaced and now the droid looked better than it ever had been. Anakin drew closer to it. “Since when do droids eat bolts?”

<Oh, never> B3-S2 admitted. <I just like to watch humans follow my every command>

Anakin gave a small smile but it did little to soften the tense atmosphere between Anakin and the droid. Neither of them needed to verbally express the lack of a certain baby to explain themselves. But the last few hours have invigorated Anakin enough for him to speak first. “Look –”

“–Hey! Who said you could be in here?”

The Mon Calamari Lieutenant, Mirn, marched into the room and puffed his chest out. “I don’t recall the captain granting you permission.”

Anakin paused. Behind him, B3-S2 cooed, <Oooh? Is there a VIP list for me now?>

“I-I-I just …” Anakin was having flashbacks to failing a speech assignment in front of classroom of judgemental students. “This droid is… uh…”

Lieutenant Mirn looked unimpressed before an idea popped in his head. “Oh? Is this your droid? The captain did mention it belonged to –”

“–No, it’s…” Anakin sighed in defeat. He thought of R2-D2 and C3PO tottering along together like a married couple, mingling with humans as though they were ones themselves.  “B3-S2 isn’t really owned by anyone. Not really.” Anakin couldn’t bring himself to call B3-S2 his property.

Unfortunately, Lieutenant Mirn looked less then pleased with that answer. “If that’s the case then –”

<He is welcomed>

“What?”

“What?”

Anakin and Mirn turned to B3-S2.

<Leave him be. We’re travelling together…and it’s either him or the floor for company and he’s only slightly better than the floor>

“Thank you,” Anakin scoffed.

“Do I not count as company?” Mirn questioned.

<I’d rather the floor> the droid replied. <Now leave us>

Lieutenant Mirn squirmed uncomfortably for a bit before backing down. Instead of leaving right then and there, he checked on B3-S2’s repair progress to which he found it would take another hour before its programming could be reinstated to its original form, allowing the droid to open up the gates to access the tracking device attached to the missing baby. Then, when the Lieutenant was finally gone, Anakin moved closer to the pod holding B3-S2.

<I don’t forgive you>

“I’m not asking you to,” Anakin acknowledged.

<Oh> the gears in the droid’s head whirled. <Well good then>

Anakin resisted rolling his eyes and told himself to keep this serious. “I just wanted to apologise anyway. You’re allowed to still be angry with me though.”

<Don’t downplay it> the droid snapped. <You think I’m just angry? I’m confused, puzzled, bewildered, mystified, perplexed –>

“Any other words you want to throw out there?” Anakin sighed.

<I’m currently researching over fifty synonyms and believe me, I am more than prepared to use every single one of them>

Anakin silently begged for mercy.

“Look, I’m not just here to apologise,” he said tiredly, rubbing his eyelids. “I’m trying to explain myself. To tell you truth.”

<Oh good, there’s more> B3-S2 would be pulling its hair out if it had hair.

Anakin groaned. “Yes,” he stressed. “There is more. Lots more actually. So, please, just listen to me and when I’m done, you’re no longer going to be, what was it? Confused, puzzled, bewildered –”

<–Just get on with it> B3-S2 grumbled.

And so, Anakin did. Feeling as though he was about to jump into a faulty podracer and drive through the sport’s most dangerous track, Anakin told B3-S2 as much as he could tell. Darth Vader and the dark future remained tightly sealed away but everything after falling back in time came to light. Unlike the Jedi, relaying this information for the droid was far more suspenseful. There were no eyebrows to rise in surprise or lips to sneer, all Anakin had was a blank robotic face as words kept emerging until he was finally done. Anakin felt like he had experienced the most difficult podrace of his short career.

<I heard about those slavers>

Anakin frowned. “What do you mean?”

<Apparently chainsaw couldn’t have done a better job than you>

Anakin deflated when he realised what the droid was talking about. At the corners of his vision he could still see their looks of terror as he cut down them down. One by one, like the rebels trying to flee from Vader’s rage. Although waking with only one mechanical limb in this time, it seemed as though Anakin had been truly more a machine than man as he ruthlessly slaughtered the slavers without even a second’s thought, as though he was on autopilot programmed by Sidious. Glancing back at the droid, Anakin reconsidered his thoughts. Even B3-S2 was more human than what Anakin had become whilst destroying those slavers.

“See…” Anakin admitted, his voice croaky. “I was born a slave and I’m… I couldn’t …” He couldn’t find the words to finish.

B3-S2 shifted in its pod before answering with a solemn tone, <My maker was a slave too. She spent five years building me from leftover scraps as she tried to fend for herself and her younger brother. I’ll spare you the long story but we escaped eventually and, well...>

Anakin drew closer, achingly cold on the inside. “She could never let it go, could she?”

B3-S2 nodded. <I wasn’t asking her to forgive them. I just wanted her to get better>

A harsh bitter noise emitted from Anakin. “I was told the same but I don’t think it’s possible. We’re too broken to get better.”

<Don’t say that> B3-S2 answered, its volume down low. <When droids are broken we are repaired. Surely it works the same way with humans>

There was a count of five seconds before Anakin released a short, exhausted laugh. It shook and sounded wet. Clearing his throat and blinking his eyes rapidly he replied, “That’s…easier said than done.”

<I _know_ that. But after we escaped I watched my maker’s life waste away as she focused on _nothing_ but revenge and hatred. Everything else was lost. Every opportunity to start anew forgotten because she couldn’t let them go. I’m _not_ asking you to forgive them. I’m simply saying they’re not worth ruining your whole life over>

 _It’s already ruined_ , almost leapt off Anakin’s tongue but he paused as he remembered his wedding day and how the petals of native Naboo flowers showered around his beautiful wife. He remembered how her smile put the setting sun to shame and how the woman that held that smile could wear so many expressions and all were so passionate and human that of course he fell in love with her. The memory brought a smile to Anakin’s face.

He focused on B3-S2, radiating fierce determination. “Look, I get what you’re saying, and I do agree but that means I need your help now, to fix the damage I’ve done. I’ve got to rescue Obi-Wan and my mother, and those slavers can go launch themselves into the nearest sun for all I care. Saving my mother and Obi-Wan is all that matters now. Will you help me –?”

< –Yes, your moron. ‘Course I will. What do you take me for?> B3-S2 ranted, low pitch beeps imitating a huff. Anakin didn’t miss the way the droid bashfully cocked its head and looked at the floor. Clearly, it didn’t take too kindly to deep conversation.

“In that case, you’ll need some upgrades,” Anakin suggested light-heartedly. Immediately, his brain began imagining all the numerous ways he could alter the droid. “You don’t have any weapons, do you? We’ll need to fix that. Or, hear me out, how does being a tank sound to you?”

< …extravagant >

Anakin beamed. “Okay, that’s one of our options.”

Back and forth the two went bouncing off ideas to each other. Both were aware that a plan was being developed by the Jedi and the Captain as this very moment, and knew that B3-S2’s upgrades would need to work with it. <Either that or they change their plans to suit us>

Anakin nodded in amusement. Then he shot the droid a frown. “Got to admit, you took me being from the future really well.”

B3-S2 produced a noise that was the closest a droid could to a snort. <Well Skywalker, with you I’ve learnt anything’s kriffing possible>

Anakin laughed out loud.

~o0o~

Mace Windu closed his eyes and soaked in what he just heard.

Despite the low image quality of the commlink, Tahl could make out the hard lines on his forehead and a pulsing vein. If not for the Force singing its approval Tahl would have felt regretful for informing Mace of everything she had learnt.

“Time travel…” Mace repeated.

“Yes,” answered Tahl and both of them sighed in unison. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I’m still struggling to accept it but the Force…”

“I know, I feel it too,” Mace replied. He straightened his robes and in an attempt to bring sense and logic back into the conversation, he continued with forced casualness, “I’ve received your coordinates. I should arrive in the Pilga System in a standard day.”

Tahl nodded. Then she asked diplomatically, “I doubt you’ll be on your own. You always enjoyed the extra company.”

Mace graced her with an amused harrumph before answering. “Master Gallia will be joining me along with Knight Fisto. This will be his first major mission since his knighting.”

The memory of Kit Fisto’s infectious smile relaxed Tahl. Her body still ached from the previous battle and the upcoming one on the horizon strung her muscles up with tension. Tahl continued, “Mace, my apologies, but the captain will not wait for your arrival. I hope the Force will bring you here in time but slavers act fast and we can’t afford to be so dependent on a tracking device that could be discovered any minute now.”

Although displeased, Mace stiffly nodded. “Understood. I assume there is a plan of action?”

“Yes, but our goal is to rescue the children,” Tahl replied. “We don’t have the resources to subdue the slavers. We aim to sneak in, grab the children and escape.”

Mace nodded again. “Master Yoda taught me the perfect diplomat ensures no one is forgotten at a party. It would be unfortunate to ignore his teachings.”

“That it would be,” Tahl agreed.

“May the Force be with you.”

“And you.”

~o0o~

Shmi barely had time to respond before a baby was shoved into her arms. She felt the baby’s soft chubby skin tuck closer to her body for warmth as a rough grip on her shoulder shoved her towards the leading slaver. Narrin slouched in his chair, looking and acting like a bored king before his subjects. Below his throne was an arena dug into the ground. Cracked and muddy tiles lined the arena’s walls and the dirt ground was uneven. On these walls, facing each other were two wide doors. Around the ditch were rows and rows of the Zygerrian slavers all keenly watching the doors. Shmi shifted the baby as she leaned over the iron fence, wondering what was going the happen.

The second-in-command approached his leader and informed him that something was ready. Shmi’s heart suddenly felt heavy in her chest. “Hurry it up then Tai-Ro,” Narrin ordered.

“Yes sir,” Tai-Ro answered. He spotted Shmi and his piercing eyes narrowed further.

Narrin waved his hand dismissively. “I needed a babysitter. Don’t think too hard about it. Now move along. We don’t have all day. Send the first in.”

Shmi wanted to look at the ground but she bravely held her gaze as Tai-Ro examined her, his hungry gaze continuously on the youngling in her arms. Finally, before the boss could explode, Tai-Ro nodded and whipped out a commlink. He sent through the orders and waited.

Iron creaked and chains rattled as the doors were pulled up. The crowd began to cheer and clap. Shmi couldn’t see from her angle but she smelt a moist foul smell before whoever was inside one of the doors was revealed. Stepping into the arena was Xanatos. A sick feeling of worry overwhelmed the teenage girl as another young man met Xanatos at the centre of the arena. In her arms, the baby sniffled and batted at the locks of hair. Shmi was too focused on the arena to notice.

Narrin held up a palm, silencing the crowd. The teenage boys glanced up at the slaver. Xanatos and Shmi found each other immediately but neither were able to give the brief flash of relief acknowledgment before it was quenched with anxiety and a sense of foreboding. Shmi also made eye contact with the other boy, who she recognised as one of the older stolen children from before.  

With the audience waiting for his words, Narrin delivered them loudly. “Boys, I’m sure you can guess the drill. Do as we say or we kill you. Good?”

Shmi stiffened as the boys glared at Narrin. Xanatos pleaded for the Force’s aid to calm his nerves as he answered back, “Surely killing your supply isn’t the smartest option for you.”

Narrin snorted. “Don’t act as though you know Hutt Space, _Jedi_. There’s credits where there’s organs. Especially if they’re fresh and from healthy younglings. Money’s a guarantee regardless. I just prefer appealing to my favourite buyers. So, what’ll it be boys?”

Xanatos and the other boy deflated and then waited.

Pleased with the response, Narrin said, “Fight. Fight until one of you collapses. The loser doesn’t get fed for a week. Or you can kill each other, I don’t really care.”

The crowd yelled and jeered. Xanatos and the boy looked at each other warily. In a flash of bravery, Shmi turned briskly to Narrin and was about to demand he let them go, but both he and Tai-Ro were staring at her expectantly, daring her to speak. Shmi’s bravery dried up and she clutched the baby closer to her chest.

Below in the ditch Xanatos worried over his current predicament. While the leader was correct, the Padawan was naïve to the mechanisms of the slave industry, he was still more experienced in the darker sides of humanity. Whether he or the other boy killed each other or not, it still chipped away at their simple privileged selves, forced to commit actions they would never otherwise do. Xanatos surveyed the young man across from him and knew that despite the muscle build from work in agricultural fields, it could not compare to advanced Jedi training. As the crowd’s yelling grew in intensity, weapons were hung suspended before the ditch by the guards. They were waiting on a Zygerrian who held a horn close to its mouth. Xanatos assessed each weapon as quickly as he could, determining which would be the most powerful and beneficial in his hands. There, that sword!

The horn blew and Xanatos bolted. He noticed his opponent dash to the opposite side and pick up an axe with ease. While the steel sword he chose was almost pitiful next to a lightsabre, Xanatos adapted to its shape and weight and held it in an opening stance. The boys caught each other’s eyes and both sent the same message: that neither wanted to hurt the other but what choice did they have?

From atop her position, Shmi wallowed in her own uselessness. Forced to sit back and watch and only lend herself as a glorified babysitter for the slavers. She hated her lacking abilities and hated her non-existent bravery. The Jedi were everything she aspired to be yet there was not a shred of a mystical wise warrior within her. Shmi’s self-hatred burned fiercely as she watched the boys take experimental swipes at each other as the crowd demanded more. After one particularly grumpy Zygerrian tossed a weapon and almost cut off Xanatos’ head, the Padawan halted and glared up at Narrin.

“This is ridiculous, don’t you want us in our best condition?!”

The slavers booed and Narrin sighed in amusement. “Don’t tell me what my customers want. If they want a good looking thing to shag, I got ém.” He gestured to Shmi who froze and Xanatos seethed. Narrin continued, “If they want a couple of dumb but strong boys to work in their mines, they’ll get ém too.”

Xanatos’ grip on the sword loosened. The other boy was whispering harshly at him but Xanatos didn’t catch a word he said. He concentrated only on Narrin. “Come on, your aim is to sell us, there’s no reason to do this.”

Narrin leaned forward. “Your reaction is all I need to know there’s plenty of reason. Get on with it or…?”

Xanatos had prepared for a Zygerrian to aim a weapon his way. He had no expected Narrin’s right hand man to press a dagger up against Shmi’s back. Shmi gasped hysterically. Tai-Ro’s tight hold on her arm and the slight but stinging jab from the dagger prevented her from moving. She almost dropped the unsuspecting baby in her fright. Xanatos stepped forward. “No, don’t! Please! There’s no reason to –”

“–as I said,” Narrin spat out slowly. “There is _plenty_ of reason. Get on with it.”

Xanatos sagged in defeat and turned back to his opponent. The other boy shook his head in mutual understanding. Both boys raised their weapons again. They looked back to Shmi and saw that Tai-Ro still held the girl too closely to his dagger. The boys dived for each other. Although the crowd behaved as though they were watching a fantastic show, in reality there was little tension to be had once it became obvious who was the experienced fighter. The other boy struggled to keep up with Xanatos’ speed and moves he and Qui-Gon had spent many hours practising. Xanatos had not topped his lightsabre classes for nothing. And in the heat of the moment, with the shouts and cheering of the Zygerrians dimming into the background, and the feel of sweat rolling down his forehead, Xanatos remembered just how much he enjoyed fighting. Instead of a captured civilian, Xanatos saw a fellow Jedi Padawan who had clearly not spent nearly enough time training as he should have. But that wasn’t Xanatos’ fault! It was either win through admittedly brutal means or be kept from food for a week. Between him and the other boy, Xanatos was obviously the most important person in the group of children when it came to figuring out a way to escape.   

Gritting his teeth and with a flash of ferocious pride born from his hard-earned sabre skills, Xanatos saw an opportunity and seized it. The axe was knocked out of the opponent’s hand, which began to bleed from a deep cut. A loud clatter sounded beside Xanatos as he huffed and built up the energy to slam into the other boy.

Above, Shmi was panicking. Her breaths came out quick and harsh, scratching at her dry throat. She eventually found it too difficult to watch, the illusions and fantasies of bedtime stories about the heroic Jedi shattering before her. Shmi brought the baby closer to her, pressing their foreheads together and squeezing her eyes shut. The youngling smelt like all babies do and reminded Shmi of her old school that took care of everyone under the age of 16 while their parents worked. She often used to stare out the windows and watch the wind rustle the natural landscape outside. The wind … Shmi paused as she felt wind caressing her face. Slowly peeling open her eyes, Shmi stared into the baby’s eyes as a soft breeze gently swam between them.

Xanatos hissed when his ankle was whacked by his opponent’s foot. He dodged another attempted attack and glared at his opponent, silently demanding that he just give up already. Xanatos was the skilled and talented Jedi Padawan no matter what his Master or any of the Order’s Masters thought. _He_ was going to be the hero in this situation and that wasn’t going to happen until this fight was over with him finishing as the blatant winner –

– Xanatos relaxed when a breeze brushed up against him, soothing wounds and cooling his hot and sweaty body. He briefly resisted its reassuring touch but did not last long. He sank into its embrace. But then the wind built up and seemed to shove him back into wakefulness. And as Zygerrians’ cheering roared ever louder in his eardrums, Xanatos finally soaked in the sight of his opponent. The boy was battered and bruised, blood seeping from numerous cuts across his body. Wide eyes stared up at him, waiting and pleading. Xanatos felt bile rise in his throat. That was an expression a Jedi was _never_ supposed to instigate.

Noticing the Padawan’s pause, the other boy scrambled to his feet and searched for a new weapon. Xanatos searched instead for Shmi again and felt the silent wind of the Force cacoon him. The sword’s shape dug into his palm as Xanatos turned to Narrin who was gazing at his suspiciously. Then Xanatos felt a warning in the Force.

He knew it was coming.

Something hard and solid slammed into his head. It froze his senses momentarily before the rough landing on the ground brought them back. Xanatos’ vision tripled and pain rippled through his skull in unrelenting waves. Through the Zygerrians’ and the horrified apologies from the other boy, Xanatos heard Shmi calling out his name above it all before he was out cold.

~o0o~

_“I really do fail to understand Master Jinn’s reasons for keeping you,” Bruck Chun proclaimed loudly._

_Obi-Wan stiffened and refused to look at the other boy. Around them fellow Padawans and Initiates snorted in agreement. Swooping in to Obi-Wan’s side was Garen who snapped back, “You don’t understand a lot of things Bruck, so back off.”_

_The bully rolled his eyes. “Come on, we’re all thinking it. Why would Master Jinn risk training someone like Oafy-Wan after what happened with his previous Padawan?”_

_As the classmates shared whispers and frowns, Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat. He realised with building horror that Bruck Chun knew about Xanatos and wasn’t afraid to use it. He lifted his heavy head up and faced Bruck who looked way too pleased with himself. Obi-Wan thought of his Master who had so wonderfully taken someone like him in, and tried to sooth his emotions. Feeling the presence of Garen, Reeft and Bant only strengthened him further._

_But like a foot stomping on a tiny but growing plant, Obi-Wan’s confidence shrivelled up and died when Bruck went on. “You know what they used to say about Jinn’s Padawan? They said he was full of anger and didn’t have many friends. Sounding a little familiar Oafy-Wan? Guess the only difference is the guy actually had a brain as opposed to you. How badly did you fail that assignment again?”_

_The snorting and giggling grew louder and felt like it was creeping in on him._ _Obi-Wan screamed internally to keep those tears in and not give in to such petty emotions. He flinched when Bant rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t listen to him. We should go tell Master –?”_

_“–Like he’s going to help,” Reeft cut in solemnly. “None of them ever do.” Garen nodded firmly and Obi-Wan felt ashamed when a part of him bitterly agreed too. Bant moaned miserably._

_Bruck gestured to his group of friends and sneered. “We’re all placing bets to see how long Master Jinn puts up with you. It’ll only be a matter of time before you’re shipped off back to the Agri-Corps.”_

_Looking back on it, Obi-Wan knew Bruck had said worst thing but hearing the word ‘Agri-Corps’ brought back a series of negative emotions at unprecedented levels. The fear of being trapped in a mine about to sacrifice his life for a Master who had continuously rejected him, the anger at the Order and the world for abandoning him, and the complete and utter self-hatred for failing to live up to the Order’s standards and proving himself worthwhile. Worthwhile …a word Obi-Wan wouldn’t dare associate with himself ever again._

_One moment Bruck was cackling with his friends. The next he was tackled to the ground, Obi-Wan shoving him down and landing a fist directly into his nose. Immediately, there was chaos as Bruck’s friends crashed with Obi-Wan’s, as the other classmates cried out for the Master, and as the two boys traded blows with a vigour and passion changed by recent events. But suddenly, they were pulled apart from one another by the Force._

_Obi-Wan huffed and spat out blood. Bruck was practically growling like a dog._

_“What is going on here!?” the Master barked._

_Obi-Wan didn’t bother trying to explain himself. The Master of this class had not taken long to distrust him and never believed a word he said. Garen, Reeft and Bant desperately yelled over Bruck’s friends as they tried to defend him._ _Sighing loudly, the Master pulled out his commlink and said sharply. “Both of you will stay where you are while I contact your Masters.”_

_“Creche Master,” Bruck muttered bitterly, trembling._

_“Ah yes,” the Master corrected awkwardly._

_Obi-Wan’s heart thudded loudly in his ears. All he could think of was his Master’s disappointed face and the tired shaking head of Grandmaster Yoda. With the Master’s back turned, Obi-Wan slowly dragged himself up without notice since everyone was listening in on the commlink conversation. Bruck’s Creche Master did not sound happy. But Bruck was getting off lightly compared to what Obi-Wan feared on the horizon._

_Without any regard to its ramifications, Obi-Wan ran._

_He ignored the cries of his friends, classmates and Master, and just kept running. He did not look back, only forward as he searched for a place to hide. Found it, he did. Obi-Wan squeezed himself in a tight space inside a dark closet, rolled up in to a ball and hid there. When his training bond was eventually tugged by his Master, Obi-Wan closed it off. Bruck had been right about Obi-Wan’s issues with his classes but tightening his shields and hiding himself in the Force was not one of them. After all, he’d had a lot of independent training._

_Obi-Wan stayed inside for a long while, not tempted in the slightest to remove himself, even as he heard his Master eventually dash outside the closet and around the hallway calling out for him._

_“Obi-Wan? Padawan, where are you? Obi-Wan!”_

Anakin rubbed his eyes and rolled over the workshop’s floor, bumping into the tools laying beside him. Another memory of Obi-Wan...As Anakin stared at his robotic hand, the voice of Qui-Gon drifted away back into the realm of his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what writing advice I would love? How to write dialogue for a multi-chapter story. Cause I am really concerned the writing around my dialogue is getting stale. In fact, if I’m real, I’m getting terrified that my writing is all round bad and worthless but I like to write so I keep doing it anyway. And on that point, god I shouldn’t be surprised that I was diagnosed with anxiety, cause all I know how to do is worry about everything, especially how stupid I look among my fellow Star Wars fans. So, Christ, sorry everyone for how long all my chapters are taking and how bad they’re turning out at the moment. I’m kind of struggling to do basically anything.
> 
> Hope you at least enjoyed the chapter.


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